Me. I’m not. Of course I’m not. I’m a fucking fireball destroying everything in my not-ready path.
Art. Cam. Iris.
I start nodding, needing her to be the strong one as I feel my identity dissipating with every breath. She knows at once, takes me into her arms, hugs me. A friend hug. The one I needed.
* * *
On the way back to Riverbend, she asks me about how things are at home living with my mom’s boyfriend.
“How do you know?” I ask.
“I don’t know any particular thing, but I can sense things. Lesbians are all witches, you know.” And then she giggles, and maybe because that giggle of hers does it for me, I tell her I haven’t been home in a week.
“Then you’ll stay with me tonight.”
“That wouldn’t be weird?”
“Sure, maybe a little … but lovely ideas are always a little weird, right?”
* * *
At her house, we say hello to her dad, who had fallen asleep reading a book waiting for Iris to come home. Then we go up to her room. There’s one bed. Of course. She hands me a pair of pink flannel pajamas.
“Not your style, I know, but it’s all I have.” She giggles again, and then I put on something pink for the first time since I could dress myself.
Once she’s in pajamas that are, impossibly, pinker than mine, she climbs into her bed. It’s a queen, but all the pillows make me feel like we’ll be spooning the second I lie down. I just have to say, “I can sleep on the floor.”
Iris sits up, reaches out her hand, and pulls me into bed beside her. Both of us on our sides, faces less than a foot apart, I try to avoid looking directly at her. I know she doesn’t want to kiss me, and I know I don’t know what I want, but my body is vibrating. Not like it does with Art. No. More like my skin is molting off. And then,
I say, “Iris…”
“Yes, Zee…”
“I want…”
Iris turns my head until my eyes can’t escape hers.
“… to tell you everything.”
* * *
So I do. I tell her. Everything. My mom. My dad. Michael. Cam. And, fucking of course, Art. I even tell her about all my weird sexual stuff.
And because I’m feeling like an idiot for doing that, and telling her I did that, I say in a whisper, “Bet you’re even happier you stopped our kiss now.”
“Zee … more likely, years from now, I’ll look back and regret not letting myself be consumed by you even if it killed me.” Jesus, I love how gentle she is with me. Art was often gentle, but in this larger-than-life way. Iris’s gentleness shrinks life’s madness down until it all seems delicate and harmless.
I ask, “I’m going to ask you a weird question, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I fucking don’t know the answer, but maybe you do…” I cannot believe I am about to ask this. But what the hell, “… do you think I’m straight or gay?” I laugh. Just to release my nerves.
Iris smiles, kindly, then says, “Mmmh,” pauses, then, “Instead of guessing what you are, I’ll tell you one of my secrets that I’ve told no one. Not even Pen.” She pauses again, giggles. Yeah. “Oh my god, I’m so nervous.”
“I just told you stuff that’s got to be stranger than anything you could possibly tell me.”
“I find what you said very normal compared to my secret, but we’re probably just all terrified of our own secret stuff.”
“Good point.”
“Okay, here I go.” Iris takes a deep breath, “When Stacy and I … when she would be, doing … down there…” She lowered her eyes toward her lap.
“I got it.”
“She was great at it, she broke my heart, but she was great at that … but I couldn’t finish, you know…”
“I got it.”
“… I couldn’t finish unless I imagined a boy was…” Iris did this tiny thrust, with her tiny giggle. “… you know…”
“I know.” I even giggle. Me giggling. Jesus.
“… and, god, I have never once wanted to kiss a boy. Seriously, not once. Well, maybe Justin Bieber when I was eleven, but he looks like more of a girl than most girls.” We both laugh. Then Iris’s laugh fades, and this serene yet baffled aura falls over her face. “So I have no idea if I’m one hundred percent gay, or you’re one hundred percent anything, or anyone is, really, because if I never think of kissing a boy but fantasize about a boy”—she did her funny mini-thrust, overbite thing—“then who knows, right?”
Right. God, I like what she said. It makes me feel better. I’m not even sure exactly why. But it does. All the tension of lying in bed next to her evaporates. I know what we are supposed to be, and so I just have to say, “I’m more nervous saying this than I was trying to kiss you, but Iris, I really, really would like if we could be friends. Good friends.”
“I’d really like that too.” And her freckle-bordered blue eyes say I promise.
art
Saturday morning, I don’t get a text from Zee (heart breaks) or Jayden (penis stays broken, ha).
But I do get a text from:
BRYAN
I need to tell you something.
Meet me at Uncle Josh’s for an early lunch?
When my dad takes a break from packing to drink his liquid lunch, I slip out the door. I feel bad but not that bad. I get to the sandwich shop early. As I’m waiting for Bryan to arrive, a lightning bolt of Art brilliance strikes me. If at least half of me likes boys, then I should be with Bryan! He’s my best friend and I already love him and I know he loves me. I’ve never thought of him “in that way” but I didn’t know I liked boys until two days ago, so maybe I’ll think of him “in that way” now. In fact! Aren’t I already? Yes! So it’s settled, then. (I know I’ll be in Ohio in three days, but being a couple will just give us more reasons to visit each other.)
And then he walks into Uncle Josh’s and as he approaches me, I realize that Bryan dresses like Zee. Sweaters instead of hoodies, cargo shorts instead of cargo pants, but remarkably similar. Maybe this is a sign that my attraction to Zee has been a subconscious attraction to Bryan all along! And they are both super athletic! And super moody! They’re like the same person except different genders!
Well, that’s not entirely true. Bryan is loud and dramatic where Zee is internal and cool. (But maybe that’s better because I’m loud and dramatic?) Another big difference is Bryan’s gruff and burly and manly where Zee is this androgynous creature from another dimension.… Ugh, I don’t know, everything’s so confusing when you’re gay and in love with a girl.
He asks, “What do you want? I’ll order.” I tell him and then he goes to the cash register. Bryan always buys our meals together. Mostly because he’s got a no-limit credit card his parents pay for. But it’s also just who he is.
When he returns, I say, “I love you,” to see if I say it differently now in my post-Jayden existence.
“I love you too,” he says, fast, not paying attention.
“No, Bryan, I love you.”
“Oh-my-god, Zee told you!”
“Told me what?” Suddenly my heart turns into ice and demands we move to the North Pole.
“She told you about Taylor.”
“Zee went out with Taylor last night?” Frozen heart now bursts into flames and promises to never rise again until we stop torturing it with all this romantic turmoil.
“Never mind. She didn’t tell you.”
“TELL ME WHAT? YOU’RE GIVING ME A PANIC ATTACK!”
“I…” Bryan starts as the counter guy delivers our order. Except it isn’t two sandwiches, it’s three sandwiches. Before I can ask why, Taylor walks through the door.
Yes, Taylor and his muscles and multi-ethnic universal sex appeal, and I know at once.
* * *
Pause time? Thanks.
I let out a wail that travels the circumference of the globe to release all my agony and shame and loneliness.
Okay. Time to be a better person.
* * *
“Taylor!” I say, standing, smiling—and a real smile too because I’m that good!—and hugging him. “Bryan was just telling me. I’m so excited. If you hurt him, I’ll have to castrate you, but as long as you treat him like a king—”
“Or a queen,” Bryan adds as he pulls Taylor into a kiss. They’re kissing. And that makes it real. Amazing. It is. Also debilitatingly painful. But amazing too! Taylor excuses himself to use the restroom.
“I’m happy for you,” I say as I start wiping the tears from my eyes.
“Why are you crying?” he asks.
“These are tears of joy that my best friend has found love.” Oh my god, I should win ten Oscars.
“You’re such a bitch,” he says, smiling, and then delivers one of his Bryan “affectionate” punches to my shoulder, which today just hurts.
ZEE
Iris and I spend all Saturday eating bagels in bed, watching Friends on Netflix, and taking silly photographs of me trying not to squirm as she paints my toenails. I feel like I’m part of some chick-lit bonding scene. Even weirder? I kinda like it.
When we’re getting ready for Pen and Benedict’s party, Iris’s dad yells from downstairs, “There’s someone here for Zee.”
Iris tilts her head, guesses, “Art?”
“I wish,” I say, because I know who it is.
* * *
I go downstairs to find Cam waiting by Iris’s front door in a sports jacket and the only pair of dress shoes he owns. He also has flowers. Jesus. Before I even reach the bottom stair, he says, “I know you’ve avoided me this week because I screwed up. I don’t know how I screwed up but I know I did. So I wanted to come early and take you shopping as an apology.”
“Cam … it’s fine … you don’t need to take me shopping.”
“You don’t even look happy to see me.”
“How’d you even know I was here?”
“Iris tagged you on Instagram. See? You’re not happy.”
“I’m happy to see you.”
“Show me, don’t just tell me.”
Fucker. This is annoying. But what the hell, I make sure Iris’s dad can’t see us, then push Cam against the wall and kiss him. But he stops me. Mr. Horny All the Time stops me.
“No, Zee … man, I don’t … I do … I guess I was hoping when I showed up early, all dressed up with flowers, that you’d be super excited, scream my name, and then jump in my arms. That sounds dumb.”
“It’s not dumb…” I say, but I think, That’s so fucking dumb, because that’s what Abigail always did and Abigail’s fucking dumb.
* * *
But maybe I should do it anyway.
He wants a girl for a girlfriend. And I am a girl! But he wants the kind of girl that boys think girls are supposed to be. A girl who jumps into her boy’s arms when they haven’t seen each other for four days or even four hours.
So, listen, what do you want, Zee? And how will you know if you never even try?
* * *
“Cam … let’s try again.” I’m stealing this trick from Art.
“What do you mean?”
“Go outside and ring the doorbell again,” I say as I lead him out the door and close it and wait. He rings the doorbell. I scream inside my head, BE A DELIRIOUSLY HAPPY CHICK! I open the door, scream, “CAM!” and jump into his arms and he twirls me.
Yep.
Got my twirl.
He’s so happy, kissing me, and it makes me happy to make him happy.
But I’m even happier when he puts me down on my own two fucking feet. And then, even though I know it will annoy him—and maybe because I know it will annoy him—I say, “Is it cool that Iris is coming with us to the party?”
art
Lunch with Bryan and Taylor is great. And when I say it’s great, I mean it’s like having a tiny chipmunk trapped inside your lungs trying to gnaw its way free while you have to pretend nothing is wrong, pretend you’re even happy that there’s a chipmunk trapped inside your lungs. Anyway, nothing is wrong! Everything’s great. Just great. Yay.
After Taylor leaves to go do whatever hot soon-to-be college boys do, I decide it’s time to tell Bryan my secret-only-to-me secret:
“Bryan…”
“Yeah?” he says as he stuffs a handful of chips into his face.
“I’m gay.”
“Ha, ha.” But he fast senses this isn’t me being hilarious.
So I add, “I kissed a boy.”
He spits out his food and punches me. Like the hardest punch ever.
While I’m trying not to cry, he says, “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?”
“It only started two nights ago.”
“Oh-my-god, you bitch, you need to tell me everything.” So I tell him everything about Jayden but only the G-rated storyline of Zee.
Then, at the end, I say, “And my dad got a job … in Ohio.”
He twists his head. Like a dog trying to understand human.
“We leave Tuesday.”
“School starts Wednesday,” he says, still in denial.
“For you. I’ll be starting school in Ohio next…” I don’t even know. I’m gonna cry. Bryan jumps out of his chair, taking hold of me. I say, “So will you please break up with Taylor and be my long-distance boyfriend?”
He laughs.
“I’m kidding, but will you take me seriously and do that for me?”
He lets me go from his hug, slurps his orange Fanta, and avoids eye contact.
“You don’t love me anymore, do you?” I ask.
“Art…” Bryan starts, and I’m pretty sure my heart is going to get broken yet again. “I love you.…”
“I love you.” I really mean this with Bryan!
“And maybe before Taylor, I wanted you to be gay and in love with me so I didn’t have to feel alone all the time. But we would be a terrible couple.”
“No, we wouldn’t!”
He says, “I bet you’d try to get me to stop eating fast food and make me dress like you.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” I say, but yes, of course, I would.
“You’re too pretty. Though my mom immediately asked why you aren’t my boyfriend.”
I prefer “flawlessly handsome” to pretty, but now is a bad time to point this out. “Wait … you told your parents?”
“Taylor and I got in a fight a couple days ago because he doesn’t want to be exclusive when he goes off to UCLA in two weeks. BITCH! I love him. So after I spent all night crying in my room, I had to tell them something and I actually almost called you and asked you what I should say and I heard your voice and your voice said, ‘The truth, Bryan!’ and so I just told them.”
“And?”
“My dad couldn’t look me in the eyes. He left the room and started drinking his whiskey by the liter. But my mom told me they loved me for exactly who I was and then my dad, when he was drunk enough, said the same thing. Well, first he asked me again when football practice starts. Then he told me how much he loved me. But, yeah, you were right, asshole, they were pretty great about it.”
“That’s amazing…” but, “and I’m clearly amazing … how can I not be your type?”
“Does the boy you kissed look anything like me?”
No. But.
“See? I bet he’s gorgeous and dresses better than you.”
Annoying he knows all that! “But you look like Zee.”
“We don’t look anything alike. You just think because we both wear cargo pants we look alike.”
“No…” But maybe. God, I miss her. I possibly start crying again. And when I say “possibly,” I mean I cry a lot.
“You totally made this lunch all about you, didn’t you?”
I nod and sniffle.
“It’s okay. If you were my boyfriend and pulled this shit, I’d fucking murder you. But since you’re just my best friend, I can do this.” He punches me again, and it hurts so much that I stop crying over my drama and cry over the pain in my shoulder instead. He’s the best.
&n
bsp; I ask, “Want to go to Penelope and Benedict’s party tonight?”
“Will Zee be there and will the two of you make a big scene?”
“Probably.”
“Then yeah, of course I want to go.”
ZEE
I insist Iris sit in the front next to Cam on the drive to the party. With him in his sport jacket, her in a single-strap white dress and white heels, they look like more of a couple together than I would with either. But the more I study them from the backseat, like some invisible alien voyeur, the more I think that they’re only a perfect couple in some straight white America fantasy archetype that doesn’t exist here or anywhere anymore.
* * *
Benedict’s house is this huge estate out in the unincorporated part of Riverbend. His driveway is long enough to be its own street. His dad is some rich author but I think he ran off to Asia or somewhere and now it’s just Benedict, his mom, and his sister, who’s gonna be a freshman at The Bend next year.
We’re the first people there because we offered to help Pen set up. Iris leads us around a twisting stone path to the backyard, where there’s this big pool with a waterfall. There’s also a gazebo, a bunch of lounge chairs and tables, and this epic food spread ready to feed everyone in Chicago.
His mom and sister are moving in and out of the house, carrying food and other crap, and seeing adults and young kids makes me think this might not be a drinking party. Which is cool. No one else might show up. But it’s cool they’re trying.
Pen waves when she sees me, then moves fast to give me a hug. Then Benedict steps up, holding his hand out, and he says, “Hello, Zee and Cam, I’m Benedict. We’re in the same class but you might not know me because I have social problems.”
Um.
But then he laughs, and so do Iris and Pen, and Pen says, “That’s just what he tells everyone. It sort of made me fall in love with him, so he thinks it will make everyone love him.” Man, they are an odd couple. But it works, I guess.
Iris then pulls this other boy who is eating the shrimp two at a time away from the spread. “Zee, you know Gator Green, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” I say, and I know he lost his dad a few years ago. So when we shake hands, we lock eyes and our hands too. It’s like we have this two-second transfusion of our broken fucking hearts and I really don’t want to get emotional, so it’s nice when Gator says, “Sorry life sucks, but they have shrimp cocktail, so it sucks less sometimes.” And everyone laughs, including me.
The Handsome Girl & Her Beautiful Boy Page 22
