I Know It's Over

by C. K. Kelly Martin

  “That was a surprise,” I said.

  “A good one, I hope.”

  “Yeah.” I smiled and pulled her back towards me. I kissed her mouth and her neck and said, “You smell like the sun.”

  “You do too.” She tilted her head pensively. I was about to ask her what she was thinking when she dropped her gaze and said, “I better go. My dad’s picking me up at the beach at six-thirty. Do you want a ride home?”

  “Okay.” I was disappointed that we didn’t have more time and I wasn’t in a hurry to meet Sasha’s dad. We walked slowly back to the beach together and stopped at the edge of the parking lot. “Give me your number,” I said suddenly. “I’ll call you.”

  “I don’t have a pen.” Sasha surveyed the parking lot, her eyes honing in on a silver Dodge Durango. The man in the driver’s seat stared back at her. Sasha blinked and turned towards me. “Will you remember it?”

  She recited her phone number and I repeated it, stamping the number into my head as we headed for her father’s SUV, not really friends yet, not really anything, just two people who happened to kiss by a lake in July.

  six

  Mom was eating a Greek salad in the kitchen, the Globe and Mail spread across the table and her legs resting on the chair across from her. She glanced up at me as I walked through the doorway. “Nicholas.” She put down her fork and folded up the paper. “I thought you were out with Nathan for the night. There’s salad and bread in the fridge.”

  “Maybe later.” I explained that I’d come from the beach and was still too warm to be hungry.

  “You got a lot of sun,” she said, examining my face. “You should be careful with that. You have your father’s coloring. He was always quick to burn.” She had this way of talking about Dad that made him sound like a distant, rarely seen relation, which in some ways he was. “Dani called here looking for you not ten minutes ago.” Mom picked up her fork and stabbed at a fat black olive. “You should invite her over sometime. I’d like to get to know your girlfriends.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” I said, drumming my fingers on the counter like it was no big deal. “We’re just friends.” Seemed like I was saying that a lot lately.

  Mom frowned and popped the olive into her mouth. We’d spent tons of summer evenings eating cold salads and sliced meats for dinner since Dad left. Mom said that she could never stomach heavy meals in the warm weather. “You never tell me what’s going on anymore,” she complained. “You were such an open little boy. Now it’s like pulling teeth to get any information from you.”

  “There’s nothing to tell.” Open little boy. Was I supposed to climb into her lap, hug her neck, and tell her everything that had happened on the playground today? Some things change in ten years, Mom.

  “There’s never anything to tell,” she said. “Do you talk to your father about these things?”

  “What things?” I asked, raising my voice a notch. “Can we not do this?”

  “This?” Mom dropped her fork into the middle of her salad and glared at me.

  “There’s no problem here,” I continued. “You’re on my back for no reason.”

  “All right.” She sighed, holding both palms up. “Fine, Nicholas.”

  “Good.” I stepped quickly away from the counter. “I’ll get something to eat later.”

  “Fine,” she said again.

  I went into the living room, flopped onto the couch, and grabbed the remote. Holland was sitting in one of the armchairs, earphones on and a book in her hands. She was one of the smartest people I knew and never hid it the way a lot of people do. I hoped high school wouldn’t ruin that about her and turn her into one of those girls who was constantly checking out guys to make sure they were checking her out or worse, someone who thought they were better than everyone else and wouldn’t let anyone with an IQ under 130 near them.

  I’d assumed Sasha was like that, but she hadn’t acted that way on the beach. It’d felt so amazing just to kiss her; it made me imagine how the rest of it would feel.

  “Did Mom tell you Dani called?” Holland asked, looking up from her book.

  “Yeah,” I said impatiently. Could I go five minutes without anyone mentioning Dani?

  “Whatever,” she shot back. “No need to jump down my throat.”

  “I’m not. It’s just that Mom was giving me the third degree about her in the kitchen.”

  “Oh, right.” Holland narrowed her eyes. “What did you tell her?”

  “Nothing to tell,” I insisted.

  “Liar.”

  My lips snapped up into a smile. “Probably nothing, okay?”

  “Probably nothing is the not the same as nothing, Nick.”

  “You’re right,” I said, getting down to the serious business of flicking channels. “It’s still none of your business, Holland.”

  Dani’s mom had the air conditioner switched to freezing. Thanks to Dani’s uncle, her bedroom walls were newly pristine, a clean eggshell color with no lumps in sight. Their flawless appearance made the house seem even colder and I pulled Dani under the blankets with me, wondering if a little adjustment to the air conditioning at home would fix Mom’s appetite and put some meat on the table.

  Dani didn’t ask me what I’d dreamt last night. She didn’t seem interested in talking and I wasn’t either. I thought everything could go on just as it had been and then I wouldn’t have to worry about being careful with anyone. I thought that for about an hour and then guilt bit into me and kept biting. Maybe I should’ve felt guilty about kissing Sasha while I was with Dani, but that’s not the way it was. I couldn’t stop thinking about Sasha’s smooth skin and the way she’d yelped when Nathan hovered over her. Sasha would never have kissed me if she knew about Dani. She’d think I was out for whatever I could get.

  “Let’s go downstairs and watch a movie or something,” I suggested, sitting up in bed. “We can’t stay in your room all the time.” Was I actually making an excuse to get out of bed with Dani? Infinitely crazy. I really wanted to get out of bed, though. I was thinking stupid things, trying to figure out how I could lose the sexual stuff and keep the friendship. People do it all the time, right? Not a big deal. It’s not like Dani and I were an actual couple.

  “We can lie here and watch a DVD on my laptop if you want. It’s nice just being naked together, don’t you think?” Dani said.

  Yeah, but…

  “I think maybe we shouldn’t be doing this,” I began, and once I’d said that much, I couldn’t stop. “It doesn’t feel completely right. You should probably be with someone who wants to be in a real relationship with you.” Dani sat up next to me, pulling the sheet up with her like we were in a PG movie. “I mean, I do like you. I like you a lot, but I think we’re better as friends and this is going to fuck that up, don’t you think?”

  Dani’s cheeks reddened as she stared at me. I thought she might cry and I wished that we could fast-forward through the part where I feel like a prick, but then she let the sheet fall and started pulling on her clothes. “There’s someone else, right? Do I know her?” She sounded calmer than she looked and when she whirled back towards me, the redness was gone.

  “I’m not even sure there’s someone else.”

  “Does she have a name?” Dani persisted.

  I reached down and gathered my boxers and T-shirt from the floor. “Don’t get mad; there’s nothing going between us…”

  Dani put her hands on her hips and watched me put my clothes on, her question gaining momentum in the silence.

  “It’s Sasha Jasinski,” I confessed, stepping into my jeans. “But we’re not together or anything.”

  Dani’s left hand dropped to her side as she grimaced. “You’re making a big mistake. She’s not your type. You’ll be bored in two days.”

  “That’s not a very nice thing to say.” Stupid coming from me, I know. I pulled up my fly and clamped my mouth shut.

  Dani scowled at me. “Just help me make the bed, Nick. Then you’re free to go.”
<
br />   So I did. I helped her tuck in the sheets, then walked out of Dani’s house and into the humidity, still in shock. Part of me was kicking myself. The other part was worried Sasha wouldn’t be interested in me, although the evidence suggested otherwise. On top of that I was starving and dinner would probably be on the minimalist side again.

  I walked all the way home, feelings jumbled up inside me like a can of stew. The house was deserted when I got there and the first thing I did was stick a pizza in the microwave. I ate it in front of the TV with a can of ice-cold Coke, trying not to think about the implications of what I’d just done and the second thing I did, I picked up the phone and called Sasha Jasinski.

  seven

  Sasha’s parents had endless rules when it came to guys. They made lies a necessity from the start. We spent the odd night at their house for dinner or watching TV in the room off the kitchen and even fewer nights at my house, my mom happily presiding over the events. The rest of the time we were at the mall, the movies, the beach, or up in my room for the afternoon with the door shut (alibis courtesy of Lindsay and Yasmin) and Holland swearing not to rat us out. Not much happened up there anyway. Sasha made it clear that there were a lot of things she wasn’t ready for. I told her I was okay with that and in some ways I was. I didn’t want to rush her.

  Of course it wasn’t as simple as that. I really wanted her. I thought about her all the time. Sometimes I imagined us doing the stuff Dani and I had done. Other times I found myself speed-dialing Sasha’s cell phone to tell her the stupidest things. Like once I called just because a song reminded me of “Unsent,” Sasha’s favorite Alanis Morissette song. Another time we watched CSI together over the phone, talking through the commercials, and at the end of the show Sasha said, “I have to babysit Saturday. You want to come by?”

  “I don’t know,” I said dryly. “What’s the rule book say on that?”

  “Same thing it always says,” she replied, “but the Wilkinsons won’t be back until after midnight.” Two and a half hours after Sasha’s curfew. I liked the sound of that but was surprised she’d offered; she wasn’t wild about breaking her folks’ rules. “I’ve been thinking about the end of summer,” she continued. “Between hockey, school, and everything else we probably won’t have much time together.”

  “Probably,” I agreed, not liking the thought of that. Keelor had been giving me shit for not spending more time on the ice lately. I’d only made two late-night hockey games so far that summer and my stickhandling had definitely gotten rusty. Weekly practices and a busy game schedule would take care of that in the fall, but usually I made more of an effort year-round.

  “I’m thinking I’m going to miss you,” she said.

  I smiled into the phone. “We’ll make time, right?”

  For sure. There probably wouldn’t be time for CSI over the phone, but there’d definitely be time for her. I didn’t think I could go a week without spending time alone with Sasha. You spend months barely acknowledging someone’s existence and then BOOM, you’re emotionally addicted to her. Science would probably blame it on chemicals, genetics, or something equally logical, but it didn’t feel like anything logical.

  Sometimes I’d catch Sasha kissing me with her eyes open. It was a weird feeling, someone watching you from that close, and it’d usually make me laugh and have to stop.

  “You’re doing it again,” I’d say.

  One time she’d put her hands on either side of my face and replied, “I like the way you look when you’re kissing—when I see your face, it’s like I know how you feel.”

  I knew what she meant. I looked at her all the time too. The way she stared back at me made me feel like she was really seeing me. Because most people don’t actually see you. People aren’t very good at that generally. Most people can only recognize certain parts of someone else, not the whole picture. Maybe you’re lucky if one other person can really see you. Maybe you’re not meant to be able to see everybody; maybe that would be even more confusing. I don’t really have a clue how that works except that I thought Sasha could see me and that I could see her.

  So of course I’d spend Saturday night with her. I didn’t feel bad about sneaking around like she did. Parents shouldn’t force you lie to them. I get that lots of parents have a no-bedroom rule when it comes to the opposite sex. I get that nobody wants their kid driving around under the influence. A nine-thirty curfew, on the other hand, is total insanity. When I worked nights, I didn’t even get home until nine-thirty.

  I hung around with Keelor on Saturday afternoon. He’d hooked up with this girl named Karyn a few days after Dani’s party and was no longer engaging in Vix-related activities. That put us in a similar position, but I knew that he didn’t understand what I saw in Sasha. We’d spent all of one evening with him and Karyn during the last month, a polite but strained evening that made it obvious Keelor and Sasha weren’t interested in getting to know each other any better than they already did.

  When I’d asked Sasha about it later, she said, “He was in my math class last year, okay? I know what he’s like. All those stupid sexual jokes. Everything is about sex with him. It’s like he has no other way of relating to girls. He was totally like that with Karyn.”

  “He’s not like that with you, though,” I pointed out.

  “He would be if I let him.”

  “You know, sometimes you take things too seriously,” I told her. “She obviously likes him. What makes you think you can decide what’s okay between other people?” I didn’t tear down her incredibly boring friends. Never mind that Lindsay was obsessed with everything that was happening between Sasha and me because she had no life outside the educational system or that Yasmin believed dropping twenty pounds would solve all her problems when her attitude was the real issue.

  “I’m not deciding for other people,” Sasha said. “I know you’ve been friends a long time. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be or anything. I’m just saying I don’t like him. That’s all.”

  “Well, I do, so maybe you could lay off him,” I said defensively. It didn’t matter whether she was right or not—only that she was bad-mouthing him.

  Sasha got all serious on me, saying I shouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want the truth. I told her she’d never given Keelor a chance and the conversation circled around with no good place to go. It bothered me that she and Keelor hadn’t hit it off, but I can’t say that it surprised me; after all, I was their only common denominator. So we argued about it, yeah, but that didn’t change either of our feelings and we got smart about it quick.

  The solution was limited social crossover between Sasha and most of my friends and a little creativity when it came to scheduling, which was how I came to be over at Keelor’s on Saturday afternoon. I brought my in-line skates and Keelor and I bladed over to Gavin’s and played video games until his mom called the three of us up to the kitchen to stuff us with homemade lasagna. Gavin always seemed a little embarrassed by his mom. She would’ve made a perfect 1950s housewife—forever cooking, cleaning, decorating, and fussing over Gavin and his dad, with no career to distract her. Gavin’s dad was a throwback too. He said things like “pardon me” and “that’s the darnedest thing.” He’d probably have a heart attack if he saw the photos stored on Gavin’s computer. I have to say both his parents were nice, though. The worst thing you could say about them was that they tried too hard. His dad insisted on driving Keelor and me home later that night and even ended up taking me over to the Wilkinsons after he overheard me mentioning my plans to Keelor. I thanked him, saying that my girlfriend got nervous when she had to babysit late.

  “It’s a scary world out there,” he agreed.

  It was almost ten o’clock when we pulled into the driveway. I watched Gavin’s dad reverse and then tapped softly on the door, scared I’d wake the kids. Sasha opened the door and smiled at me. “The coast is clear,” she said, taking my hand. “Come in.” I followed her down the hall and into the TV room. Some British detective show was on a
nd Sasha grabbed the remote and turned the volume down.

  We sat on the couch, the two of us occupying one seat. “So what’d you do today?” Sasha asked, throwing one of her legs over mine and burying her head in the crook of my neck.

  I told her about Gavin and Keelor and she hummed in response. “What’d you do?” I asked, squeezing her thigh. My hands traced slowly over her top and she hummed into my ear, licking at it and making me crazy. I slid her under me, our bodies extended along the length of the couch, and slipped my hands under her top. Her clothes-on rule killed me at times. The fact that my hands could touch what I couldn’t see made the experience frustratingly secretive. Touching her like that turned me on more than sharing a bed with Dani.

  We did what we always did, we moved against each other until I came. Sasha’s hands stroked my back under my T-shirt. She bit her lip and continued pushing up against me. “You can’t get off like that, can you?” I asked, stroking her hair. We’d never talked about it, but I could tell.

  She turned her head so that her expression was half hidden. “It feels good. But no.”

  “So.” I put my hand between her legs. “What about like this?”

  She closed her eyes and let me do it, still pushing against me. I would’ve done anything she asked me to. It was only her rules that stopped me from making further suggestions. I had this little conversation about it in my head, wondering what was okay to say, as I touched her. You’d think doing something like that would use up all your focus, but it doesn’t always. At that point I was thinking about how I wanted her to enjoy what we were doing as much as I did.

  In the end I dropped my mouth close to her ear and said, “Is this how you do it when you’re alone?” We’d never talked about that either. Maybe I was assuming too much, but how else was I supposed to know?

  “Not exactly.” A shy smile skipped across her lips. She reached down and unzipped her pants. I got hard again watching her do it. “Don’t take anything off, okay?”