“What you laughing about, Dew?” Jeep says, never looking up.
“You know what my parents always called that?”
“What?” he says, kissing it again.
“That thing you just kissed.”
“Oh, you mean your ding dong?” He laughs, gives it another kiss.
I laugh at him. “Yeah, my ding dong. They called it a tallywacker.”
Jeep lets out a roar. “That’s a new one on me. But I like it! From now on, I’m calling it Tally, for short. Come to Daddy, Tally.” He takes it back into his mouth.
But he shouldn’t have said that word. Daddy. Tally isn’t interested.
He tries to work his magic again. But nothing happens. Finally, Jeep pulls his body up parallel to mine. His face is six inches from mine, staring into my eyes. He glistens. His love for me is overflowing. “It’s okay. Tally’s probably just tired. He’s had quite a workout.”
I lean toward him and kiss him. He puts his arm behind my neck and pulls me to his chest. We lie there. Just basking.
“What ya thinkin’, Dew?”
“I’m thinking about how good this feels. So this is what they do, huh?”
“Gay, Dewey. Use the word. And, yeah,” Jeep answers. “Some of what gay boys do. We want to save the best for later.”
“How do you know so much, Jeep? I’d bet you’ve had lots of lovers, haven’t you?”
“Dewey, you’re my first. I swear. But I’ve thought a lot about it. And it helps I found a book in a sleazy store downtown. It kinda pointed me in the right direction.”
“A book, huh? I’ve read a lot of books, but I’ve never come across one that would have taught me what you just did. Lisa and I used to play around a little bit, but when push came to shove, I didn’t know what to do. Tell you the truth, I think she would have let me do anything I wanted to, but I was just an ignorant kid.”
“It helps to want. You didn’t want to jump the fence with a girl. I know that. You know that. Now. We’re gay, Dew. We like boys. There’s no use fighting it.”
My crazy hippie has become my wise guru. “When did you first know, Jeep? That you were?” It feels so good, my head against his warm, furry chest.
“I think I knew very early on. All the way back to third or fourth grade. I used to like the boys better than the girls. I know, I know. That’s the way most little kids are. But this was different. I would study the boys, wonder what they did at home alone, wish I could be their alone friend. At that age, we all traveled in packs, you remember. Never split up into pairs, certainly not same-sex pairs. Well, I wanted me some time alone with those cute little boys. It was like the crushes guys get on girls. But somehow, I knew what it meant for me. Then in sixth grade, there was this one guy. He was tall and beautiful. He looked older than the rest of us. One day, at the bus stop, I just walked up to him and started talking. I found I was good at that. Up until then, I was kinda shy.”
“You? Shy?” I chuckle at the thought.
“Believe it or not, I was not always the charming hippie you now know and love. No, there was a time when I was afraid of my own shadow. I think it was ’cause I knew I was different. So, back to my story. This kid and I got to be friends. One day, when the bus stopped at his house, he asked if I wanted to come see his train set. I didn’t care a flip about trains, but I did want to be with him.
“So, I said, ‘Sure,’ and we went into his house. His mama wasn’t there. He told me she’d started letting him stay at home alone after school for an hour each day, just to test him to see if he would be okay. She was actually just next door, and he was supposed to call to check in. That’s what he did. I heard him say, ‘My friend Jeep is here to see my trains. Okay?’ It must have been okay, because he hung up the phone and told me he had to call her back in fifteen minutes to check back in. Seemed weird to me, but all mothers are different.
“He took my hand and led me into his room, saying, ‘My trains are back here.’ He had a cool train setup, even though I wasn’t all that excited about trains, as I said. I pretended to really like the trains, turning the switch on and watching the train as it made its way through its tiny town. When the locomotive actually blew a little puff of smoke, I laughed and said, ‘Wow! Cool beans!’ I stood there, watching the trains. I heard him pick up the phone to check in: ‘Just playing with the trains. He likes them.’ Then he hung up.
“I put my hand on the switch to turn off the train. He put his hand on mine. I looked at him. He looked at me. He kissed me. And I kissed back. Oh, boy, did I kiss back. That was when I knew.”
“That was it? A kiss between two twelve-year-olds? That’s when you knew you were that way?”
“Right there. I tried to kiss him again, but he pushed away. ‘You have to leave now. Mama will be coming home.’ He was in a panic. I left his house and walked home. I loved the way I was feeling. But from then on, he never sat with me on the bus again; he never spoke to me in school again, ever.”
“That must have hurt.”
“It did. I cried every day after school for a week. But, you know, a kid’s feelings are resilient.” Jeep belly laughs. “How’s that for a good vocabulary word? You’re rubbing off on me, Dew.” He kisses me again. “And speaking of resilient, let’s see if Tally has bounced back.”
He has. Jeep pounces on me like I am a honey pot. And the second time is even better than the first. As he pulls every sweet thread out of me, I think of that spider. He is safely attached to his beautiful web. Even though he is in the other room, I know.
At last, Jeep finishes his dessert, and he looks up at me. “Dew, I don’t ever want this night to end.”
Reality hits. What time is it? I look over at his bedside clock. It is almost midnight. I jump out of bed, grab my clothes, and start dressing. Jeep looks like I’ve hit him with a brick.
“Where are you going? We’re just getting started.”
“I have to be home by midnight. I’m gonna be late as it is, but maybe I can sneak in.” I grab my jacket and put in on, stuffing my tie into the pocket. I lean down to him and kiss him again. Then I rush to the car.
At home, I quietly go to my room. Shut the door. I quickly undress and get in bed. I lie there, thinking of what has just happened.
Jeep. His eyes, his lips. I almost drift off to sleep, gently caressing Tally. But Tally has other ideas. The gentle caressing becomes more urgent. Up and down and up and down. I murmur, “Jeep, Jeep, Jeep, Jeep,” over and over as I feel it building. I explode with a force greater than either of the times at Jeep’s house. As I reach for something to clean myself with, I see Jeep’s grin in my consciousness. He is happy I’m so happy. This newfound love is something I don’t understand quite yet, but it feels right.
As I use a T-shirt I’d thrown on the floor yesterday to wipe the sticky stuff from my belly, there is a knock on my door. I freeze.
“King Cat? You okay in there?”
“I’m fine, Daddy.” I quickly finish my clean-up job and stuff the tee under my mattress.
“It’s pretty late.” He talks from behind the closed door. “I got up to pee and saw your light.” Shit. I didn’t turn off the overhead light, and I got so involved, I forgot it was even on.
“I know, Daddy. I was looking for the book I’m reading. I think I left it in my locker at school.” I can’t believe I’m telling such a whopper. I will surely rot in hell for lying to Daddy.
“I heard you talking. Couldn’t make out what you were saying. That’s why I knocked. I thought maybe something was wrong.”
“No, Daddy. I was just babbling, mad because I couldn’t find my book.”
“Well, it’s late, anyway. Go to sleep, King Cat. Night.”
“Night, Daddy.” I hear his footsteps fade away.
I get up to switch off the overhead light. Shit, if I hadn’t left it on, I’d still be lost in Jeepland.
I settle back into bed. I start to think about Jeep again. I reach for Tally. I stop.
What am I doing? I almos
t got caught. And if Daddy knew what I was doing, who I was thinking about when I was doing it, he’d be furious. I can hear him now. “No son of mine is a queer. You just get that goddamned notion out of your head right now, you hear?” It echoes in my head—“Youhearyouhearyouhearyouhearyouhearyouhearyouhear?”
I grab my head. Pound on it to release the thought. “Youhearyouhearyouhear?” It drones on and on.
What am I doing? I’m not what Jeep wants me to be. I don’t care what I just did with him. That’s not me. I’m not that way. So I broke up with Lisa. But that was because of Lisa. Not because I like boys. I like LuLu. I know I can’t be her boyfriend. Daddy wouldn’t allow that. Daddydaddydaddy…. It’s pounding inside my head, and the pounding outside begins again. If Daddy would let me, I’d make a play for LuLu. She’s funny. She’s different. She’s not Jeep. JeepJeepJeepJeepJeep. Shitshitshitshitshit. Leavemeleavemeleavemeleavemeleaveme.
My head is aching from all the thinking, all the pounding. I make my fists stop. I lie there. Helpmehelpmehelpmehelpme, I say internally, repeating it like a mantra. Finally, my mind seems clearer; my brain relaxes. I know what I have to do. I did it to Lisa. Now I have to do it again.
Tomorrow, I will call Jeep. Tell him I can’t give him a ride anymore. Tell him I’m not that way.
I’mnotthatwayI’mnotthatwayI’mnotthatwayI’mnotthatwayI’mnotthatwayI’mnotthatwayI’mnotthatwayI’mnothatway.
The night’s a long one. Not one wink of sleep. It runs through my brain like the wheels of a freight train: boomlackalackaboomlackalacka, I’mnotthatwayI’mnotthatway. I twist, I turn, but it won’t stop. I know it won’t stop until I do what I have to do.
Dawn has barely broken. I look out the window. See the morning dew. Will this waking nightmare ever end? Only one thing will make it all stop. And then I can get back to normal.
Quietly, I tiptoe to the door. I open it, hoping its continual creak is quiet this morning. I get the phone from its nook. Take it into my room. Silently—thank God—close the door. I stretch the cord all the way to the bed. Sit. Dial the number.
I steel myself. One ring. Two rings. Three. Four.
“What?” The voice is gruff. Of course. I woke him up. It can’t be much later than five.
“Jeep?” I keep my voice cold. I have to do this. I have to be free of him. Right now. I’m not that way.
“Dew? What time is it?” I hear a lilt come into his sleepy voice. I can’t let that stop me.
“Early. Listen, Jeep, I can’t give you a ride anymore.” I remember how I treated Lisa. I knew I had to be that way. I have to be that way now.
“What? Why?” I hear panic.
“Jeep, I don’t know what happened last night. I’m not that way. What you want me to be.”
He laughs. “That’s a good one, Dew. You had me going there for a minute.”
My heart wants to ache. But I can’t let it.
“Jeep, I’m not joking.” I let each word fall like a sledgehammer blow. “I’m… I don’t know why I let last night happen, but it can’t happen again. No rides. No phone calls. No stopping to talk at school. Understand?”
I hear sobs from the other side of the call. “I’m hanging up now, Jeep.” And I do.
I sit a moment, staring at the floor. I notice something across the room. Like a robot running out of power, I rise. With leaden feet, I walk across to see what the black, curled up thing is.
It is a very dead spider.
Chapter 7
THE REST of Sunday was awful. I tried to get Jeep out of my head, but he wouldn’t leave. Mother and Daddy went to Aunt Juney and Uncle Bert’s house. I told Mother I had a headache—the truth—and after her administering a dose of lots of questions and two aspirins, they left the house. I usually love going to Aunt Juney’s. She’s Mother’s sister, and she has two kids. The oldest, Danny, is in Vietnam. He used to give me and his sister Jo, short for Joanna, a lot of grief when we played together. Now Jo wishes she had a younger brother or sister to give grief to. Jo’s not mean. She just misses Danny, I think. Jo and I are pretty close, so I like visiting. Aunt Juney’s a pretty good cook too. I love her banana pudding. Uncle Bert, though. He always barbecues chicken on the grill. It’s never quite done, and it’s terrible. Still I eat a lot of Aunt Juney’s potato salad and pick at the chicken. So I know Mother was having a hard time with my not wanting to go. And I couldn’t tell her the real reason. I was glad they went without me.
I tried to watch TV, but I couldn’t concentrate on that. Finally, I buried myself in my script, hoping to get lost in it all. It didn’t help my character is the way he is. But I focused on my lines and worked on memorization.
I refused to let myself think of Jeep. I would question everything I’d done. I couldn’t cave on this. I’m not that way, and I can’t let my friendship with Jeep convince me that I am.
This morning, I stumbled out of bed, got dressed, and got to school. I almost turned the car in Jeep’s direction before I realized what I was doing.
I sat on the foyer bench. And sure enough, the familiar “Dew-ey!” rang out. I was kinda glad. I needed the distraction.
Butch sat down. I didn’t make a lunch, so I didn’t have any cookies for him. I said, “Sorry, Butch, no cookies today.” He didn’t seem to care.
First there was silence. Then Butch said, “Dewey, does your mama work?”
I answered, “Sure.”
“When does she go to work? Like what time?”
“She gets me up right before she leaves—about six.”
“When does she get home?”
“About five. A lot of days, I cook dinner, and we eat right when she gets home.”
“You cook?”
“Yeah. Mother taught me how.”
“That sounds good. You know, my mama goes to work at five and she gets home about four o’clock. She cooks, eats some of it, and leaves it all on the stove. Then she rushes off to her second job and doesn’t get home until about eleven thirty at night.”
“Really?” I don’t know what to say. I knew his mother had to work two jobs because of his worthless daddy.
“Yeah. I wish I could cook. That might help her out some. But she’d never have time to teach me, like your mama did you.”
“Butch, maybe some time you could come over to the house, and I could show you a few things.”
“You’d do that?”
“Sure.”
“Dewey?”
“Yeah, Butch?”
“You’re a good guy. I’m sorry for all those times.” He doesn’t say anything more. Probably because we both know what he means.
“Thanks, Butch.”
The bell rang and it was time for Morning Devotional. Today was a meditation on “to thine own self be true.” I hated it.
I trudged through the school day. I just didn’t want to be there. Once, I passed Lisa in the hall, and she didn’t look at me. She hasn’t spoken to me since the big breakup. I knew I did the right thing, being so cold to her. But it still hurt a little I treated her that way. She never looked at me, not even in history class. She’d actually asked the teacher if she could change her seat, and now she sat way away from me.
I also passed Jeep in the hall. He did look at me. And I wanted to cry, he looked so hurt. I quickly looked away and kept walking. I’m not that way, I repeated over and over in my mind. And Daddy’s face kept flashing in my brain as I repeated the mantra.
Finally, it is time for drama class. Last period. I love drama, so maybe I could shake this funk. If nothing else, I could soon leave the building.
As I walk into the classroom, Jimmy comes toward me.
“You look bummed out. What’s wrong?”
“Nothin’.” I couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Lisa’s been talking about you all over school. I didn’t know you guys broke up. The way she tells it, she got sick and tired of you. What’s up?”
I want to tell him the truth. But I decide I’ll just let her have her way. “S
he just told me off. She never asked me to go the Sadie Hawkins, so I made other plans for Saturday. That pissed her off, so she just severed ties with me.”
“Wow, sorry to hear that. You two have been going together for a long time.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “Probably time for a change.”
He spouts a little wicked laugh. “So Dewey’s a player, huh? You got anybody else in mind?”
I think quick. The only name that pops into my mind is head cheerleader, Miss All-round, Senior Favorite Dalayna Daughtry. So I say the name of the goddess. She’d never in a million years be interested in Dewey Snodgress.
“Dalayna?” I hear the complete skepticism in Jimmy’s voice. He smiles. “I have her phone number, if you’re interested.”
What can I say? I have to keep up this white lie I’ve told. “How’d you get that? Aren’t we out of her league?” Whoops. I’ve almost blown my story.
“Well, I am. But I guess you think you can join her league. She gave me her number when we did a project together. The teacher paired us up. Believe me, she’d never have chosen me to work with.” He looks in a notebook, copies the number on a scrap of paper, and gives it to me.
I fold it up, slip it into my wallet, and say, “Thanks.”
“Let me know how it goes for you,” he says. “And don’t worry about a thing. She’s really nice. I’d bet she accepts.”
Yeah, sure, I think. But I don’t say anything.
Mr. Waters has us do some breathing exercises; then we do a few improvs. He gives us the second half of the period to work on scenes we have due later in the week.
Just before the bell, he calls me over. “How are rehearsals going?”
“Great!” I say. I’m glad to be talking about something I love. Something that distracts me from my life. “I really enjoy the show. And your friends are great. And everybody in the cast is really talented and fun to work with.”
All You Need Is Love Page 9
