“I keep on forgetting that Manhattan is an island,” Alek admitted.
He looked up and saw the sun setting behind the Jersey skyline. Alek had grown up in New Jersey and knew that it had the reputation of being the nation’s armpit. And usually Alek felt like the reputation was well-earned. But now, a few stray rays of sun shot up, piercing the darkening sky with shafts of purple, red, and orange. The reflection shimmered on the water delicately, as though any disturbance would cause the image to disappear. Even New Jersey, Alek thought, looked beautiful through the lens of New York. Alek and Ethan stood, admiring.
“You called me your boyfriend back there at the falafel place,” Alek said softly, still looking straight ahead.
“At Mamoun’s?”
“Yeah. You told those girls that your boyfriend bought you some food.”
“So?”
Alek paused, wondering if he could build up his courage to ask the terrifying question.
“Why me, Ethan? You’re so—well—you could have anyone in the school that you wanted. Why did you choose me?”
“I have a soft place in my heart for the Armenian people. The whole genocide thing…” The breeze was gently billowing wisps of Ethan’s hair. Alek thought he could be content to spend the rest of his life like this, with the sun and the water and the wind and Ethan. But that didn’t mean he was going to let him evade the question.
“I’m being serious, Ethan,” Alek insisted softly. He put his hand on Ethan’s, interlocking their fingers on the rail.
Ethan took a long, considered pause before he started speaking. “I think, when you’re our age, it’s really easy to do the easy thing. I mean, what adults don’t understand, or maybe they’ve just forgotten, is that most of the time we mess up, we know we’re doing something stupid, but we choose to do it anyway because it’s easier. But you’re different. You’re not scared to do the right thing, even when it’s harder. Like telling Mr. Weedin when he had copied that problem wrong. Or calling me out when you thought I was being homophobic. And I respect that, Alek. You’ve got character. That’s something I want in a guy I’m going to be with. It means he’s going to treat me well, and that he deserves to be treated well himself.”
Alek leaned his head on Ethan’s shoulder and continued watching the last few remnants of the sun disappear.
“One more thing,” Ethan said after a long pause. “And this was true before today, but now it’s indi-freakin’-sputable.” He put his arm around Alek’s shoulder and whispered into his ear. “You’re sexy, boyfriend.”
16
Alek had laid out his clothes the night before, making a covenant with himself to wear them. Even so, he had to make himself ignore the comforting invisibility of the old mall fare in his closet. When he walked on the High Line yesterday, his new clothes made perfect sense. But as he lay on his bed in New Jersey, they felt as out of place as fireworks at a funeral.
Alek didn’t know if it was a good sign that Ms. Imbrie, his English teacher, didn’t recognize him when he walked in that morning, wearing tight jeans and a short-sleeved red plaid button-down shirt and sporting his new tousled hair. And although he certainly wasn’t dressed like a D.O., he felt much more comfortable at their table wearing his new threads. Josh, with the bleached spiky hair, even said, “Um, dude, I’m straight and I’d totally do you.” To which Ethan quickly responded, “Josh, you’re straight?” and the table howled.
* * *
“Do you want something to drink?” Alek asked Ethan later that day after school as they walked into his living room.
“Some water would be great.”
“Plain or fizzy?”
“Fizzy’s good.”
“Chilled or room temperature?”
“You guys keep fizzy water chilled and at room temperature?”
“A good host is prepared for all possibilities,” Alek responded, quoting his mom.
Ethan had stretched out on the sofa by the time Alek returned with the room-temperature fizzy water. He set it down on a coaster in front of Ethan and sat down on the chair opposite him.
“Why are you sitting so far away, boyfriend? I don’t bite,” Ethan purred. Lying on his stomach, his back arched into the sunlight streaming in from the living room window, Ethan looked positively feline.
Alek walked over slowly and sat down on the other side of the sofa. This was really the first time that the two of them had been together alone in a private place since their first kiss. The possibilities terrified Alek and thrilled him.
As if reading his mind, Ethan said, “You’re still too far away.”
Alek scootched over so that his knees were right next to Ethan’s reclined head. Ethan put his head on Alek’s lap, arched up, and kissed him firmly on the lips.
When Alek had learned about the Trojan War and Helen of Troy as the face that launched a thousand ships, he found the whole story totally unbelievable. The idea that a single person could attract, inspire, or arouse hundreds of men to risk their lives and livelihood felt like the kind of mythological hyperbole that never really happened in the real world. But while kissing Ethan, Alek understood why all those Ancient Greek warriors got on those ships and sailed to the other side of their world.
Much of what Ethan had already taught Alek had been by description; how the streets of Manhattan were organized, or the deeper meaning of a Rufus Wainwright song. But this was teaching by example, and Alek was an eager student. Alek learned when to lean in and when to pull back, when to nibble and when to breathe.
Ethan began gently running his fingers through Alek’s hair. The increase in pressure was so subtle that Alek didn’t notice it at first, but soon, the motion evolved into something stronger. Eventually, Ethan grabbed a fistful of Alek’s hair by the roots. Alek surprised himself by interrupting one of their kisses with a deep, guttural moan. Ethan grabbed again, and Alek moaned even louder.
“You like that, do ya, boyfriend?” Ethan smiled deviously at Alek.
“Uh-huh,” Alek responded. Even a few days ago, he might’ve blushed, but now he didn’t.
Ethan’s hands worked their way down to the top of Alek’s shirt. Alek inhaled sharply, realizing that he’d lost all track of time, and had no idea if he and Ethan had been making out for a few minutes or for hours.
Being with Ethan like this also terrified Alek. The first time they’d kissed, in Ethan’s room, enough factors had conspired to limit the experience: they knew Mr. Novick would be coming home eventually, and also, Alek had never kissed a boy before. But today, stretched out in his family living room without the threat of interruption, Alek had no idea how to slow things down, or how much he’d be comfortable with. And part of him was scared that he wouldn’t want to do either of those things, that he’d lose himself in his curiosity and hunger.
One by one, Ethan’s hands unbuttoned their way down Alek’s red plaid short-sleeved shirt. When they got to the bottom, they lingered on the top button of his new jeans. Alek jerked away from Ethan.
“I’m just kidding with you, dude.” Ethan laughed. “We’re not going to be ready for that for a while. At least another few days.”
“What?” Alek said, terrified and excited.
“Man, I’m just playing with you. Where’d your sense of humor go? Just shut up and kiss me. You’re getting good at it.”
Ethan whipped off his own T-shirt and put his hands on Alek’s head, drawing him in again. The sound of the doorbell interrupted their embrace.
“Just leave it, dude,” Ethan begged. “Whoever it is will go away.”
“What if my parents asked the Eisingers to check on me?”
“Who cares, man?”
“I care—now put your shirt on,” Alek insisted.
“Are you kidding me?”
“Do I sound like I’m kidding?” Alek asked, throwing Ethan’s shirt at him.
“I’m not embarrassed about being gay, you know.”
“Neither am I, but this isn’t how I plan on coming out to my pare
nts, okay? Now dress!” Alek commanded as he went to his front door.
“I brought the movie, a bag of Cracker Jack, and, of course, Diet Dr Pepper,” he heard Becky say before the door was open all the way. “I’m assuming your folks left enough to feed a small army, right? Because if not…” Becky trailed off when she saw Alek. “Alek? Is everything all right? What happened to your hair?”
“Hey, Becky—is it six already? I totally forgot we had plans.”
“I can tell,” Becky said, eyeing him and his half-open shirt up and down.
“Hello, lady,” Ethan called from the living room.
Becky looked from Alek to Ethan, back to Alek. “You must be Ethan.”
“And you must be?”
“I’m Becky. I’m assuming Alek has mentioned his best friend to you?”
“The inline skater!”
“Bingo.”
“Killer wheels you got. Are those Kinetics?”
“Close—Activas.”
Alek couldn’t believe it. Even in this situation, Ethan could keep his cool.
“Some of my friends and I skate on the other side of the tunnel,” Ethan continued. “We’re mostly boarders, but we’ve got some skaters, too. I’d invite you to come and hit it sometime, but we have a strict no-girls rule.”
“Ethan, if that’s a challenge, consider me game. I’m sure I could teach you and the D.O.s a thing or two.”
Alek cleared his throat not so subtly. “Becky, Ethan and I were sorta…”
“Yeah, I have a pretty clear sense of what you two were sorta doing. But you already blew me off once and you’re not going to do it again. Ethan, you’re more than welcome to join us if you’d like. And I think it’s a good idea if the three of us start spending some time together anyway. You might be Alek’s boyfriend, but I’m his best friend, I’ve known him longer, I know him better, and I’m not going anywhere, so you better get used to me.”
Becky marched into the adjoining den. “I’m just going to set everything up,” she called from the TV room. “Hurry up! I’ve been dying to watch this one. Again. It’s got Jennifer Aniston and Paul Rudd in it. The Object of My Affection isn’t an old movie, but it’s so good, it may as well be. Jennifer Aniston gets knocked up by her boyfriend, but she dumps him and decides to bring the baby up with Paul Rudd, her gay best friend, who she’s fallen in love with. Ring any bells?”
Alek stood dumbfounded.
“That lady’s really got some spunk, don’t she?” Ethan asked Alek. “Remind me never to piss her off.”
“Are you guys coming?” Becky called from the den. “The credits are playing!”
* * *
Two hours later, the end credits rolled on the screen. “Great flick,” Ethan said. He and Becky sat on the sofa, while Alek sprawled out on the floor. “It’s nice to see some gay characters who are just, like, you know, normal. When did it come out?”
“1998,” Becky said, reading the cover.
“So ahead of its time.”
“I’m glad you liked it, Ethan. I would’ve told Alek to break up with you if you didn’t.” Even between her predictable sobs, Becky could keep her game up. “I like how there’s so much going on in that movie, like a woman having a baby by herself, and the importance of promises that friends make each other.” Becky turned to Alek. She blew her nose into a tissue and wiped her eyes. “You know what I mean?”
“I do now,” Alek said, meaning it.
“What did you think of the movie, boyfriend?” Ethan asked Alek, scooting down on the floor to be next to him.
“Yeah, Alek. You’re being suspiciously quiet.”
Alek considered a moment before responding. “I was just thinking—I wonder how long it takes an idea to change.”
“What do you mean?” Becky had exhausted the tissue and was now using the back of her sleeve to wipe her nose.
“We have this idea of family, right, that’s been around for the last few thousand years. And at the end of this movie, we see a different idea of family.”
“Or lots of different ideas of family,” Ethan said.
“Exactly—gay, straight, older, interracial—and I was just wondering, how long will it be before we have more than one idea of family in our heads.”
“How many kids our age do you know who come from ‘normal families’ anyway? I only see my mom a few times a year. Most of my friends’ folks are divorced or not speaking. I think it’s about time that our idea of family caught up with reality,” Ethan said.
“Well, most of the time, reality doesn’t make any sense, and I think that’s one of the reasons the movie is so good,” Becky said. She picked up a discarded bag of pretzels and started munching on them. “Like when Jennifer Aniston and Paul Rudd started to make out. They were best friends, she knew he was gay, and if his ex-boyfriend hadn’t called just that minute, who knows how far they would’ve gone.”
“I’ve never made out with a girl,” Ethan said.
“Really?” Alek said. It would’ve never occurred to him that he might be more experienced than Ethan in certain ways.
“Nope. I mean, who knows—I might go to college and experiment with members of the opposite sex, but so far, the impulse hasn’t occurred to me.”
“Well, I think about making out with girls sometimes,” Becky said, popping the DVD out of the player.
“No way,” Alek said.
“Sure.” Becky shrugged. “But then again, I think women’s sexuality is much more fluid.”
“Than what?” Ethan asked.
“Than men’s,” Becky said.
Alek leaned forward. “Oh yeah? And what do you know about male sexuality?”
“Well, there’s this guy I used to make out with—” Becky started.
“You never told me this!”
“Must have slipped my mind,” Becky continued with studied nonchalance. “That guy Brock who lives on my grandma’s street in Maine.”
“Him!? I can’t believe you made out with the guy you called ‘Brock the dumb jock who lived down the block’!” Alek said accusingly.
“He sounds hot to me,” Ethan said.
“Well, he asked if I ever thought about kissing another girl,” Becky continued.
“My buddies talk about that all the time,” Ethan said. “Straight guys are so predictable.”
“And I said no. And he said, ‘Even Kate Winslet?’ Now, we’d just watched Titanic, so as you can imagine, she was very fresh in my mind. I don’t think I’m a lesbo, but I said yes, I’d make out with her. And then he started naming all of my other favorite movie stars—Audrey Hepburn, Anne Hathaway, Rachel Weisz—and I said yes to all of them. So I guess I’m either a theoretical bisexual or a major fame whore.”
“I can’t believe you never told me about Brock,” Alek said.
“It happened before we even met, Alek,” Becky said. “And I didn’t want to intimidate you with my experience.”
“Lady, you’re speaking wiser than you know.” Ethan nodded knowingly.
“Ethan, I tried to break him in for you, but you know how difficult he can be,” Becky confided. “When you kissed him, did you find—”
“And I think we’ve had enough of that,” Alek cut in quickly. “Boundaries, okay?”
“I agree. Seeing the two of you nuzzling is making me sick.” Becky snapped the DVD case shut, strapped on her skates, and started making her way toward the front door. “Good to meet you, Ethan. I’m sure you’ll be seeing me around.”
17
Alek floated through the next two days, his newfound freedom expanding his definition of joy. Instead of finishing his Shakespeare paper for Ms. Imbrie’s class, Alek stayed up with Ethan until midnight after Becky left that Thursday. And the next morning, he woke up and ate Cracker Jack for breakfast, washing it down with flat leftover Diet Dr Pepper, before leaving to meet Ethan at the train station for another adventure in the city.
When an unexpected shower caught them eating gelato in the West Village, Ethan ducked i
nto the nearest hotel, explained to the doorman that he was the child of one of the guests, and was rewarded with a beautiful big umbrella that shielded them all the way to the nearest Barnes & Noble. In the bookstore, Ethan showed Alek his favorite urban survival trick. He took an expensive-looking book off one of the shelves, walked around for a while, and then “returned” the book at the cashier.
“We don’t usually take items back without receipts, even if they are in perfect condition,” the cashier explained.
“It was a gift for my birthday,” Ethan explained courteously. A few moments later, he was rewarded with store credit for the amount of the “returned” book.
“You like books, right?” Ethan slid the gift card to Alek, who stared at him in wide-eyed amazement.
* * *
As long as Alek continued calling his parents every day and night, they believed that everything was fine.
“What are you going to do today?” his mother asked when he talked to her Saturday morning.
“Who knows, Mom? How’re the rest of the families? Did the Kalfayans make you eat their food? How about the Hovanians—have they chilled out at all?”
“Quite the opposite. Nik just had to run out to meet Nanar because there’s something she said she needs to tell him.”
“You think she’s pregnant?” Alek joked.
“That’s not funny,” his mother responded. “What are you going to do today?”
“I was thinking I’d hit the courts.”
“How lovely, Alek. By yourself?”
“No, with a friend.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“I said, I’m going with a friend,” Alek repeated.
“Sorry, hon—I was talking to your father.” Alek could hear his father’s muffled voice on the other side of the phone. “Honey, it sounds like something’s come up. I’m going to have to call you back, okay?”
“Sure, Mom—see you guys tomorrow. Have a good ride back.”
Alek hung up the phone. He flipped through the sections of the Sunday Times that arrived on Saturday, like Arts and the Magazine, relishing the ability to read them fresh. As the youngest member of his family, he usually had to make do with everyone else’s smudged and creased hand-me-downs.
One Man Guy Page 15
