I’m allowed to go out into the waiting room, where Bryan, Carolina, Penelope, Iris, Benedict, Trevor, and this Gator person that I didn’t know existed are all waiting.
Oh, yeah, and Jayden is there too. Dressed like Zee. He’s so crazy! But also so attractive. Seeing him and Zee in the same room … I’m going to say something dramatic (yes, even for me!) … but seeing them in the same room makes me feel like a whole person. I don’t even know what that means! But that’s okay.
* * *
The nurses keep asking where my parents are and I say, My mom is a slut and my dad is a drunk but I don’t actually say that, I just say, “I don’t know,” because I’m still (sort of) a kid and you can’t just tell other adults that your parents are terrible or else they think you’re the one that’s terrible.
They make me stay the night at the hospital. Zee stays with me. She curls up into the bed with me. We don’t kiss. Neither of us talks about it. Just before we fall asleep, she says, “I love you, Art.”
“I love you, Zee.” And then I think of a funny joke to say, but I fall asleep before I can say it.
* * *
In the morning, Bryan picks us up from the hospital and the three of us go to Bagels at the Bend. After we’re sitting down with our egg sandwiches, Bryan says to Zee, “Have you beaten him up for moving to Ohio?”
She shakes her head. “I’m trying not to think about it.”
“That’s fine, I’ll do it for both of us.” Then he hits me—twice!
Then Zee, trying not to get emotional, says, “Is this for real?”
“My dad got a new job. He told me Friday. He says we leave on Tuesday.”
She whispers and yells at the same time, “That’s two days from now.”
I can’t even say anything. I always can say something! But just the idea of moving makes me stop breathing and my heart stop beating and then I die but I’m immortal now so I come back to life but just because I’m immortal doesn’t mean I want to think about it.
* * *
After bagels, Bryan takes us back to Benedict’s to get Zee’s truck. Penelope and the rest of them are still there, cleaning up. Since I missed the big fight in the pool, they tell it to me again. Bryan was basically Superman, they say, and so I say, “I always knew Superman was gay.” And everyone laughs because I’m hilarious. Except Bryan. He punches me. Which means he loves me. Even if I’m too pretty for him to kiss, I’m not too pretty for him to love.
* * *
Zee and I then get in her truck and we start driving and I have no idea where we’re driving, so I ask where we’re going and she says,
“To see my dad.”
ZEE
I don’t really want to talk about why I want to go see my dad.
I might not even know.
Okay, fuck, but maybe seeing my mom in the hospital room had something to do with it.
art
Zee drives us to The Forest Café, which I’ve always wanted to visit this time of year. And when I say “visit this time of year,” I’m being hilarious because it’s only twenty minutes away.
We enter through a revolving door at the same time this strangely luminous boy (with green eyes and the best hair on this planet or any planet) is leaving. He waves at me. Or maybe at Zee. Or maybe both of us. So I wave back and he smiles, and then when I turn, he’s gone.
“Did you know that boy?” Zee asks.
“No … you?”
“No, but, never mind.” And then as soon as we are inside the café, I decide I want to live here. Trees and coffee and paintings hang by wires as if they’re floating in the sky.
This beautiful older woman in a gray suit meets us near the entrance. “Art, I’m Stephanie. Arshad told me all about you.”
“Arshad didn’t tell us all about you. I feel cheated.”
“She’s his girlfriend,” Zee says, then leans into me. “And stop trying to be funny. None of this is funny.”
I’m feeling more me than ever, so I just let this nugget fly: “But that’s exactly when we need to laugh the most.”
“Oh,” Stephanie says, “I like that, Art. Where did you hear that?”
“Just now, as it left my mouth.”
“You’re special,” she says, and now I love her.
Zee says, “He knows. No need to tell him.”
Stephanie then leads us past the center coffee bar and sitting area, back down a winding path, up in an elevator, and into a private office that overlooks Laedi College and all of south Gladys Park. No Arshad, but there’s a wide wooden desk, a big soft couch, a shiny huge TV, and a refrigerator with glass doors.
“Oooh,” I say, because I’ve always loved refrigerators with glass doors.
But Zee’s all business. “Where’s Arshad?”
“He’ll be here in a moment. Make yourself comfortable and take whatever you want from the fridge.” So I do, taking a Fiji water.
* * *
After Stephanie leaves to get Arshad, Zee asks, “Why do you think Michael would have said my dad had a boyfriend?”
“Because Michael’s an idiot.”
“It’s just weird for him to say that—”
“Zee, Stephanie is beautiful and feminine—”
“Yeah, duh.”
“And part of what makes her so beautiful is she earned that femininity.”
Zee thinks for a second longer.
I say, “She’s trans.”
“Oh! I literally would have had no idea. You’re right, Michael is an idiot. Which reminds me, I have no house and no money and no anything.”
“You have me.”
“You’re moving to Ohio in two days.”
God, I don’t like hearing that. Before I can say anything to make either of us feel better, Arshad walks in.
ZEE
My dad—Arshad—doesn’t try to hug me, doesn’t even approach me. He knows better. Stephanie enters as well, closing the door and situating herself behind the desk. Arshad says, “How are you?”
I say nothing.
Art, of course, says everything. “I’m being forced to move out of state by my tyrant father and Zee is homeless and broke because of her idiot stepfather figure.”
“Okay,” Arshad says, then looks toward Stephanie. “Then let’s start there.” Stephanie opens a drawer on the desk, takes out a several sheets of paper. She hands them to Arshad, who then hands them to me. I take them, and pull away so I’m halfway across the room.
“What is this?” I ask. It’s bank stuff. An ATM card is attached with a paper clip.
“I opened a bank account several years ago for you. There’s not much, but it will help.”
“I don’t get it.”
Art tries to explain: “It’s money he gave you. It’s in the bank.”
“How could you open an account with my name?”
Arshad says, “My name is also on the account.”
“So you can take it back. You control it.”
“I would never do that,” he says.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Then tomorrow, because today is Sunday and the bank is closed, go to the bank, open your own account. Transfer all of it from our joint account into an account that only you have access to.”
Fuck, I’m so overwhelmed. “Why are you doing this? What’s the catch?”
“There’s no catch. It’s your money. You owe me nothing.”
“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?”
He answers with this calmness that makes everything still: “Because you’re my daughter.” And as soon as it makes everything still, I start crying. Just bawling. And then I can see him crying but I don’t want to cry and I don’t want to cry with him.
So I ask, “Are you rich?”
“No, not rich.”
“But you own this place, don’t you? The Forest Café?”
“Yes, I bought it from the original owner several years ago.”
“Why?”
He pauses, then, “Because your mother and I
had our first date here.”
I knew he’d say that and yet the mention of my mother trips my warning light. “I have to go.”
“Whatever you wish,” my dad says.
“Where are you going to go?” Stephanie asks, then gives my dad a look.
Arshad says, “Stephanie and I would love for you to live with us.”
I say, “No,” before I can think about it.
Art again takes my hand. “I think Zee just needs some time to think about everything.”
“Of course,” my dad says.
Fuck, I hate how nice he is. “Bye,” I say, and I move toward the door, pulling Art behind me.
art
Once back in the truck, Zee turns to me but doesn’t look at me. “Do you need to go home?” And I want to die, again,
But I manage to say, “Do you want me to go home?”
And she starts crying again, and between her sobs, Zee says, “I never want you out of my sight again.” And oh-my-god, I lunge over the center console and hold her and it’s our best hug ever and all our hugs were the best ever too, so this hug should probably be studied by aliens as the embodiment of perfect human love.
* * *
When our hug is over, she says, “Where do you want to go?”
Back to the motel. But I can’t say it.
“Want to…” she says.
And I know she can’t say it either, so I just say, “Yes.” And she knows.
* * *
We first go to a bank, stop at the drive-up ATM.
“If this doesn’t work…” Zee starts, holding the card her dad gave her.
“It will work,” I say, and, duh, it does.
She shows me the receipt as she wipes the tears from her eyes.
“He’s a good person,” I say.
“Yeah, maybe, but I still want to hate him.”
* * *
We pick up Thai food because I think even Zee has reached her limit on pizza, and go back to The Last Riverbender motel. Zee pays for the room, and we walk up the stairs and inside. It’s been just over two days since we were here but also ten lifetimes.
Sitting in front of the bed, we eat and watch Comedy Central. We don’t talk much. After we’re done with dinner, we curl up on the floor without a word spoken. Spooning. I’m the outer spoon. This is important or not at all.
She says, after we lie there for three episodes of Tosh.0, “I don’t want you to go to Ohio.”
“Maybe I can stay if you marry me.” I laugh.
“You’re not an illegal immigrant, Art. You don’t need me to marry you so you can stay in Riverbend.”
“Are you saying you wouldn’t marry me if it would allow me to stay?”
“I’m not…” She stops. Thinks. “Yeah, fuck it, I would marry you.”
* * *
Later, she says, “Let’s get in bed.”
“Okay,” I say. She stands, strips down to her underwear, and gets under the covers. So I do the same. Then we’re both lying on our sides, our eyes pouring into each other.
She says, “I didn’t have sex with Cam.”
“I don’t care.” I do, but I don’t.
“We kissed and groped each other a little.”
Ugh. “I don’t want to know.”
“I want you to know,” Zee says. “And I want to know everything about you and Jayden.”
“Why?” Please, please, please don’t make me tell you.
“Because … I want to understand…” She reaches out and caresses my face. “… us.”
After something so profound and perfect, I clearly have to tell her everything. And so I do! Which is terrifying, but also extraordinary, like she was there with me when I was experiencing all these new things with Jayden.
Then, after I finish telling her everything, we just lie there in silence until she says, “I kissed Iris.”
“Really?” And I’m excited, not jealous, which is crazy, but okay.
“Yes.”
“Did you like it?”
“I didn’t not like it. But she stopped it. Which was good.”
“Do you want to kiss her again?” I ask, and now my excitement turns jealous. Or maybe into panic and I can’t breathe for a second.
But she doesn’t answer me. Instead she asks, “Do you want to kiss Jayden again?”
* * *
And he’s nuts and needy and, ugh, I have an erection just thinking about him.
* * *
“Yes.” I can’t lie to her. Ever again.
“It’s okay.”
“I would never cheat on you, Zee.”
“I know.…”
“Would you cheat on me?”
“No…”
“But?”
“Tonight, can we not kiss or do other stuff?… Can we just hold each other?” she asks.
“And keep our underwear on?” I say, because I’m hilarious, always.
“Yes.” She smiles.
“Yes … I would love that.” I really would. Is that bizarre? Does this mean I’m one hundred percent gay? No other straight or even bisexual teenage boy in the world would be just as happy holding a girl all night as he would be getting naked.
Oh, who cares what other teenage boys would do?
Because they’re not me.
And they wouldn’t be holding Zee.
ZEE
I fall asleep on Art’s chest super early, like before eight p.m. But then I wake with a jerk, as if from a nightmare but I don’t remember dreaming. I know it isn’t morning yet. I reach toward the floor to grab my iPhone from my pants, but then Art says, “It’s one twenty-two.”
“Have you slept at all?” I ask.
“I told you I gave sleeping up.”
I smile, sit up, pull his head down onto my chest.
“Zee…?”
“Yeah?”
“When all that stuff happened at the party, when you said you loved me…”
“I do.”
“But you couldn’t … or shouldn’t. What if I’m meant to only like boys…?”
“Kiss me,” I say.
He sits up, faces me. “But you said…”
“If you don’t want to kiss me, then don’t kiss me. If you want to kiss me—”
He kisses me before I finish. His lips against mine, his smell seeping into me. It is at once a jolt of electricity to my flesh and a warmth that calms my bones.
I say, “Still great? Even after you’ve kissed a boy?”
“Still the greatest ever,” he says.
“Iris said some things that made me think. Maybe connections between people are mystical and mysterious. Who knows why you like me and Jayden. Or I like you and Iris and Trevor—”
“Trevor?!”
“Yeah, sort of, for like two seconds. And that green-eyed boy—”
“Yes, me too.” He shrugs and grins because there’s no one ever born who wouldn’t find that guy attractive. “Do you still like Cam?”
I didn’t have to think long. “No. I’m officially over Cam. Whatever combination of stuff you and Iris and whoever else has, he doesn’t have it.”
Art started wiggling, excited, ready to leap. Then he says, “Let’s figure it out.”
“Figure what out?”
“Figure out the ‘combination of stuff.’ Maybe we’ll come up with a more eloquent title, but let’s me and you figure out why we like each other and then other people even when those people seem like they have nothing in common, not even gender, and maybe we’ll figure out the secret to all the mystical and mysterious connections people have with each other.”
I laugh even though I know he’s serious.
“I’m serious!”
“I know you are. What makes you think a girl like me and a boy like you can figure out what nobody else in history has ever really figured out?”
“Because only a boy like me and a girl like you could ever figure this out.” And then he takes my face in his hands. His eyes bloom. Inside them is both this little child
that believes magic is real and this old soul that knows it is.
“Okay.”
“Great, let’s get started.”
“Now? It’s one thirty in the morning.”
“Could you possibly go back to sleep right now?”
Fuck. “No.”
“Then, my queen, let’s get to work.”
“All right, kid.”
* * *
So we do. We stay up the whole night, talking about everything. Everything we feel. Everything we’ve seen, heard, read. We look stuff up online, stuff like the Kinsey Scale, which we stole from, and we stole a lot of other people’s stuff too. But we truly thought, by the time the sun was long up and we were overtired and overhungry, we created something original and brilliant and important. Maybe we’re just two teenagers in a motel room. But maybe we’re more than that.
Our final title? The Zert Scale: The Combination of Stuff Love Is Made Of.
Maybe we’ll put it online someday. Or publish it in some book or something. Art even made these great charts. Who knows what we’ll do with it, if anything, but I’m glad we did it together.
* * *
And then Art gets this:
ART’S DAD
Need you home. A lot of work to do before we leave tomorrow.
art
When Zee and I get to my house, there’s a huge moving truck parked on the street outside. Professional movers are loading the den’s couch—my father’s summer bed—into the back.
“That makes it real, huh?” I say, trying to make it light. But that’s impossible, even for me.
Once we’re inside, the house—the only home I’ve ever known—looks like a gutted animal carcass. Most of the furniture is already in the truck, drawers and cupboards are open, emptied or close. Boring brown boxes are stacked in every room as if that’s all this house ever had in it.
I hear voices upstairs. At first I assume it’s my dad—who else? But then I take Zee by the hand, start climbing the steps. When I realize it’s not my dad, I say, “We can go.”
“No, it’s okay,” she says. And upstairs, side by side on the bed, looking at an old photo album, are Abigail and Cam. We stop in the doorway but don’t say anything. They look up at us.
“Hey,” Abigail says, only she starts to tear up at the sight of me and has to look down. This is—literally—the first time my sister has ever been sentimental about me. Cam nudges her until she leaps to her feet, facing us.
The Handsome Girl & Her Beautiful Boy Page 25
