by Jonah Black
“Lose you?” I said. “Why would I lose you?”
“Because I might become famous. I mean, you’ve never had to share me before,” she said, her eyes shining. She looked really happy.
“It’s fine, Mom. I’m glad you’re famous,” I said.
“Really?” Mom said. It seemed as if I’d touched her deep inside. Her eyes were tearing up. “Really really?”
“Yes, Mom, really,” I said. “It’s exciting.”
“Oh, I’m so glad you feel that way.” She sighed. “I was afraid you’d experience it as loss. You know, recapitulate in your unconscious the dynamics of your father’s and my divorce?”
I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. Mom always uses that self-help mumbo jumbo. It’s the only way she knows how to communicate. I hugged her again. “I love you, Mom,” I said.
Tears began to spill down her cheeks. “That is such a validating thing to hear,” she said.
“I know it,” I said.
She dabbed her eyes with a table napkin. “You’ll be glad of my other news, then,” she said.
“Other news?” I said. Again, I thought of the guy on the phone.
“My publisher called. They want me to write a sequel to Hello Penis! Hello Vagina!”
“Really? A sequel?” I said, trying to sound excited.
“Yes! It’s going to be called Hello, Pleasure: Dr. Judith Black’s Guide to Being Nice to Yourself,” she told me excitedly.
I tried to think of a good response. I was glad for her. But writing another book means she’ll be working even more than she already is. I know it sounds like I’m this big baby, but I kind of wish she would realize that Honey and I need her to look out for us, too.
“That’s great, Mom. I’m proud of you,” I said, knowing it was what she needed to hear.
“Are you really?” she said. “Really?”
I nodded. “Really,” I said.
As I got up and went to my room, I kind of wished I felt as comfortable talking to my mother about my own relationships and stuff as everyone else in the world seemed to be. Maybe I should call in to her radio show and disguise my voice. Or maybe not.
I stopped in Honey’s doorway. She was wearing a black halter dress and reading some book of poems by Allen Ginsberg, in French.
“Hey,” I said. “Did you tell Mom you got into Harvard?”
“Oh, no, I forgot.” Honey raised her voice. “Hey, Ma, I got into Harvard!” She got up and went down the hallway to Mom’s room and opened the door to her bathroom. “Hey, Ma, I got into Harvard.”
I heard my mother say something, and then Honey closed the door.
She turned to me. “She’s takin’ a dump,” Honey said. “She says she’s glad for me, though.”
Nov. 8, 5:15 P.M.
Okay, so it’s just me and a can of Pringles again. This time they’re barbecue flavored. And Honey got this amazing salsa called Captain Bob’s Cactus Explosion, which makes tears come out of your eyes just by smelling it. So I’m eating one potato chip dipped thoroughly in Captain Bob’s and then I sit and wait for the top of my head to explode. It takes a while for the pain to subside, and then I do it all over again.
I’ve been thinking about Thorne these last couple of days. I haven’t seen him, and when I tried calling him, I got an operator saying the number had been disconnected. Does that mean the Wood Rendezvous Service, or whatever it’s called, has gone out of business? I’m still pretty mad at Thorne, but I’m worried about him, too. I mean, even after everything he’s done, he’s still my best friend.
What amazes me about Thorne is that he’s actually really poor. All this time he’s been pretending he’s some millionaire playboy, while he hustles for money all the time. And nobody—none of the girls he’s seeing, not even Posie or me—knew anything about it. The idea of him working every weekend on the Scrod, cleaning fish—it kind of breaks my heart.
And what about all that bullshit about trading stocks and talking to Kendra on the phone? I bet that was all made up. He doesn’t have any stocks. There wasn’t even anybody on the other end of the line. It was all completely bogus. I feel so bad. I mean, why couldn’t Thorne tell me the truth?
Of course, now that I’ve written that, I realize I haven’t told him the truth about what happened to me at Masthead. I guess we’re even. And I guess I understand Thorne. It’s a terrible feeling, to be ashamed of who you are.
I have now finished this whole can of potato chips. I wonder if we have any more?
Nov. 9, 4:15 P.M.
This is just a short little thing but I feel like writing about it anyway. Something happened on the way home from school today that made me feel like superman or something. I was riding my bike south on A1A and suddenly I was like, I think I’ll stop in at the drugstore. So I pulled over and locked the bike and went into the CVS.
I hadn’t even thought about what I needed but the next thing you know I’m in the “intimate needs” section and there in front of me is this whole wall of condoms and stuff. So I started checking out the condoms. I felt really nervous. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with buying condoms, but my heart was pounding in my throat and I was afraid some FBI agents were going to spring up out of nowhere and say, Okay, son, what have you got there? Condoms? Does this mean you’re having sex? Are you aware of the implications of that, son?
Yes, officer. I’m aware of the implications.
And then I thought about what condoms actually are—just slimy pieces of rubber, and I was like, yuck. I don’t want to touch Posie with one of these. But still, they’re one of the necessities of the life I appear to be living now. And guess what? I like this life!
Anyway, buying condoms is really just the same as buying soap or toilet paper or something. It’s like, you pull into a CVS and get your condoms and your candy and your gum and your shampoo and you go out into the world and it’s all just routine. But to actually need condoms because I was going to have sex with Posie was more than just routine; it was the best feeling in the world.
I grabbed a pack and started heading toward the counter, but then I stopped and went back because I wasn’t sure I was happy with the ones I’d picked out. I mean, there were so many choices. Ribbed. Lubricated. Extra Long. Super Natural. Lite Touch.
I thought I might as well be prepared, so I bought one of each. Then I brought them up to the front of the store and put them on the counter and the kid working the cash register just looked at the condoms and then at me, and he said, “Will that be all?”
“Yes, that’s all,” I said. He beeped them through the scanner and on the cash register monitor the words lit up: Trojan Condom 2 Pckg, and I felt this huge rush of happiness. I kind of wished there were people behind me in line to witness it. The thing that made me feel happiest of all was how incredibly right it was. I mean, I was just a guy buying condoms so I can sleep safely with the girl I love, and there was nothing extraordinary about it at all to anyone but me because the girl is Posie and the guy is me. Jonah Black, Teenage Stud. Ha!
And another thing. I didn’t think about Sophie once today. All I do is think about Posie. She and I are real!
AMERICA ONLINE INSTANT MESSAGE
FROM NORTHGIRL999, 11-9, 9:47 P.M.:
NORTHGIRL999: Hello Jonah Black!
JBLACK94710: Hi Aine! Where have you been?
NORTHGIRL999: Your Aine has been traveling all around. I left Sweden and went to England for my vacation. It is very nice there.
JBLACK94710: What did you see in England?
NORTHGIRL999: I was in London. I saw Westminster Abbey and Buckingham Palace.
JBLACK94710: Did you like it there?
NORTHGIRL999: I liked it but English men are so rude men! Always with the bosoms they go!
JBLACK94710: How do you mean?
NORTHGIRL999: Oh it is as if they have never seen blond girl with bosom before. I go into pub and all the men buy me lots of drink and soon I am a drunken Aine! Very funny situation!
JBLACK94710: You know, Aine, I have to say, sometimes I find it hard to believe some of the things you say.
NORTHGIRL999: What is hard to believe?
JBLACK94710: I don’t know. I mean I’m not trying to be rude but sometimes I feel like you’re making a fool out of me.
NORTHGIRL999: How can Aine make fool out of Jonah? Aine loves Jonah!
JBLACK94710: I know. I love you too Aine. It’s just all a little far-fetched, you know?
NORTHGIRL999: Fetched? What is this fetched?
JBLACK94710: Never mind. I should go.
NORTHGIRL999: No, Jonah. Do not go. I wish not to have my Jonah think Aine is this fetched.
JBLACK94710: It’s just that some of the things you say don’t make sense. Like you say you’re at the University of Stockholm in Norway. But Stockholm isn’t in Norway, it’s in Sweden. And you keep misspelling it. It’s Stockholm, with a C. Not Stokholm.
JBLACK94710: Hello?
JBLACK94710: Hello?
NORTHGIRL999: I don’t know what to say.
JBLACK94710: How can you not know what to say?
NORTHGIRL999: I just don’t. Okay. So you found me out. Please don’t hate me Jonah!
JBLACK94710: How can I hate you? I don’t even know who you are!
NORTHGIRL999: Yes you do. Of course you know me. I’m someone you see all the time!
JBLACK94710: Who is this really?
NORTHGIRL999: Oh Jonah. I’m so embarrassed.
JBLACK94710: Don’t be embarrassed. Just tell me who you are.
NORTHGIRL999: I can’t believe you can’t figure it out. Who do you think gave you the roses when you were in the hospital?
JBLACK94710: Cecily?
NORTHGIRL999: Oh Jonah it’s so pathetic you think it was Cecily leaving you the roses.
JBLACK94710: I saw her leave my room!
NORTHGIRL999: Well, DUH, I mean of course she was there, there were lots of girls who visited you. But only one who left you roses.
JBLACK94710: PLEASE TELL ME WHO YOU ARE!!!!
JBLACK94710: Hello?
JBLACK94710: Hello?
JBLACK94710: Posie, that’s not you, is it?
NORTHGIRL999: Oh, Jonah, it’s not Posie. Don’t you know?
JBLACK94710: How would I know who this is? Cecily?
NORTHGIRL999: Cold!
JBLACK94710: Cilla? Kirsten? Luna?
NORTHGIRL999: Cold! Freezing cold! You think I’m one of those dopey girls who sits around listening to Lemon?
JBLACK94710: Sophie?
NORTHGIRL999: Sophie? The girl from Masthead? Could you get any FURTHER from the truth?
JBLACK94710: Who are you?
JBLACK94710: Hello?
[Northgirl999 is not currently signed on.]
(Still Nov. 9, 11:45 P.M.)
I biked over to Posie’s house today and she came to the door and said, “Hey, Jonah. What are the four sexiest words in the universe?”
“What?” I said.
And Posie said, “My parents aren’t home.”
We went inside and ran upstairs to her room, with the surfing pictures on the wall and the M. C. Escher mobile twirling from the ceiling above her desk, and started ripping each other’s clothes off.
How can I describe what it’s like to be going out with Posie after all these years? It’s like doing all of my favorite things all at once. Like eating apple pie with toffee ice cream in bed and watching an Indiana Jones movie and having school cancelled on a Tuesday because of a hurricane. It’s like listening to my favorite Smelts song played so loud it makes glasses shake in the kitchen cupboard. It’s like laughing so hard I can’t talk. It’s like staying up all night and watching the sun turn the clouds red. It’s like finding something totally new in something I’ve known my whole life. It’s definitely cool.
So here’s the bad part. I can’t stand to even write it down. I mean, if there was a way to write this with my eyes closed, I’d do it. Posie and I were both naked and we’d been kissing and fooling around for like, twenty minutes, and I got up to go get one of the condoms out of my wallet. Super Fine Ribbed Extra Lubricated. And then, as I was opening the package I was looking at this picture of a racehorse Posie has on her wall, and it reminded me of Sophie. I guess it was that new leather smell that I associate with Sophie, like a baseball glove that’s just been oiled. Her horses, and that house by the sea.
“Hey,” Posie said, frowning at me. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said. Then Posie walked over and kissed my neck and took the condom out of my hand.
And at that second we heard the front door slam and Posie’s mother yelled up the stairs “Posie? I’m home!”
Posie froze and called down the stairs, “Hi, Mom!”
We heard Mrs. Hoff’s footsteps coming up the stairs and we pulled our clothes on in about five seconds. We didn’t even bother with underwear, we just yanked on our pants and T-shirts and threw everything else under the bed. Then the door swung open.
“Guten Tag, Jonah Black,” Posie’s hefty Bavarian mother greeted me.
“Hello, Mrs. Hoff,” I said.
She came into the room carrying a tray with a plate of cookies and two glasses of milk on it.
“I brought you zum koochen,” she said, and put the cookies down on the bed. She looked around Posie’s room, and wrinkled up her nose a little bit. Then she went over to the window and opened it wide.
“It smells a bit unzeimlich in here,” she said. Then she turned and smiled. “It is so gut to see you, Jonah! You come over more often now, please?”
“Okay, Mrs. Hoff,” I said, and she left the room.
Posie and I started laughing. We drank our milk.
Posie wiped the milk from her mouth with the back of her hand and smiled. “Better luck next time, Jonah,” she said.
I knew what she meant by this. She wasn’t going to do it while her mom was downstairs. I didn’t blame her. It did kind of spoil the mood.
“Hey, would you tell me something serious?” I said. “Are you Northgirl999? On AOL?”
Posie looked at me without a clue. “Who?”
“Never mind,” I said. “Forget it.”
“No, seriously,” she said. “Who’s that?”
“Nobody,” I said.
Oct. 19, 3:35 P.M.
Sophie puts her hand on my cheek and says, “Jonah? Are you awake?”
I open my eyes and there she is, her cheeks still red from the wind on the Maine seacoast. She is wearing a yellow slicker over white canvas overalls and giant black rubber boots and a yellow rain hat. Are we going fishing? I wonder.
“It’s seven A.M.,” she whispers. “Don’t you want to wake up?”
I sit up in bed. Her pajamas are folded on the pillow. “Sophie,” I say, yawning. “What time is it?”
“It’s the best time of the day,” she says. “Come on; they’re biting.”
“Who’s biting?” I say.
“You’ll see,” she tells me mysteriously.
She opens the door and leaves the room, and I quickly pull my clothes on and run after her. Sophie is down by the shore with all this fishing gear in the sand, and she casts her line into the wild surf. The sun is rising over the ocean, turning the sky crimson and pink.
“What are we trying to catch?” I ask her.
Sophie smiles at me, and her smile is the brightest, most wonderful thing I have ever seen. I’m going to remember this forever, I think.
Then the line goes tight and the reel starts whizzing and spinning around. Sophie tries to get control of the rod, but whatever is on her line is way too big.
“Whoa,” she says. “It’s enormous.”
“What is it?” I say. “Sophie, what did you catch?”
For just a second we link eyes, and there is something desperate and hungry in her gaze. “Jonah,” Sophie says, still struggling with the rod. “I’m afraid.”
Before I can help her, Sophie is lifted off of her feet and hurled into the ocean, and a second la
ter she’s gone without a trace. The waves crash on the beach in front of me.
“Sophie?” I shout, but my voice is blown away by the fierce wind. “Sophie?”
I plunge into the ocean, but there’s no sign of her. I can feel the shells beneath my bare feet. I’m in up to my neck.
“Sophie?”
In front of me a giant fluke flashes silvery in the water, like the tail of a mermaid. It arcs above the surface, and a second later it’s gone. I’m not even certain it really happened. Maybe it was a mirage.
I remain standing in the cold Atlantic, calling out Sophie’s name, over and over, but I’ve lost her.
Suddenly a woman’s head and shoulders emerge from the waves. Her hair is wet, and she isn’t wearing a shirt. For a moment I think it’s Sophie and start to swim over to her, but then I realize it’s not her.
“Posie?” I say. “What are you doing here?”
Posie looks frightened, and then she dives beneath the waves. Now there’s no sign of either of them, so I dive beneath the surface as the next wave crashes over my head and everything is dark and cold and I can’t see anything. It’s quiet down here, and the world seems very far away.
I try to call Posie’s name, but my voice doesn’t carry underwater.
And a voice said, “Don’t try to talk.”
There was a crack in the darkness and all I could think was, This is what a chicken sees when it comes out of its shell. So I kind of moved toward the crack and then more light shone in, and my head started pounding like my brain was too big for my skull.
“Jonah?” she said. “Can you see me?”
I looked at her but she didn’t look anything like Posie.
“I’m Dr. Sheldon. Do you know where you are?” the woman said.
I looked around. Things were very bright and white.
“Am I underwater?” I said.
Dr. Sheldon smiled. “Jonah, you’re in the hospital. You had an accident during the diving meet. Do you remember diving?” she asked me.
Then I remembered. “I was on the high dive,” I whispered.
