Crossroads

by Lori L. Otto

  “They need a math quiz booth,” he mutters.

  “Yeah, they do,” I agree with him, laughing. “You’d win all the prizes.”

  “Guys with brains are better than any guys who can win silly prizes by playing sports, boys,” Laila says. “Although I do love the monkey.”

  “Said like a girl with brains.” I wish I could kiss her right now.

  “We make a good trio,” she says.

  “Yeah,” Landry and I say at the same time.

  “I wish I could have stayed here sometimes,” I tell them both. “It would have been fun to finish high school with you two.”

  “It would have been fun to compete for valedictorian,” Laila says.

  “You’re saying it’s not a competition anymore without him?” Landry asks playfully.

  “He was always going to get it. Now it’s mine for the taking… unless you start brushing up on your writing skills, mister.”

  “You said you were going to help me.”

  “Yeah, now that I think about it, that’s not good for me, strategically.”

  He pushes her playfully. “Don’t get too comfortable on your high horse up there, Lai. I’ll swoop right in there and take your V.”

  I stop walking. I heard two things I didn't like. For one thing, Laila hates it when people shorten her name to Lai, for obvious reasons. And secondly, take her V?

  Laila’s laughing. “What did you say, Landry?” I ask angrily.

  “Take her valedictorian title, man. Calm down.”

  “And… did he call you Lai?” I ask my girlfriend.

  “He does that sometimes,” she says to me.

  “Since when?”

  “I don’t know. He started a few weeks ago. He’s lazy, Will. That’s not news.”

  “You feel it’s disrespectful to you.” I urge her to be upset. I remember the one time I called her that, she cried and told me the story of how two boys in the fifth grade had asked her if she was an easy lay, and she said yes, because she didn’t know what it meant… and they started rumors about her promiscuity. It had taken her months for people to stop calling her a slut.

  “That was a long time ago, Will. Let it go,” she says, shrugging it off. “He didn’t mean anything by it. The last thing I want to happen today is for you two to fight! We’re supposed to have fun. It’s just a dumb nickname.”

  I nod, thinking about what she said. “A few weeks ago? Have you two been hanging out?”

  “A little, yeah,” Laila answers. “Are we not allowed to, without you? It was always the three of us.”

  “I mean, sure you’re allowed to. You just never mention one another,” I answer, looking at both of them. Landry acts like he’s not listening. “It just seems weird.”

  “I guess it’s not really worth talking about. We just go for hikes, and to the movies sometimes. Normal stuff that friends do.”

  “Okay,” I tell her, still a little unnerved by it, but she’s right. I can’t expect them to not be friends. It always was the three of us. I’d always hoped Landry would find a girlfriend of his own, but he was always so introverted when he wasn’t with us. “Yeah, it’s cool.”

  “I’m hungry,” Landry says, changing the subject. “Weren’t we going to get something to eat?”

  “Yeah, I’m starving. What do you want, Will?”

  “Pizza?” I ask, thinking of something I know we all like.

  “Perfect,” she answers. We wander over to a directory, looking for the food court.

  A few hours after lunch, and after about ten more rides, we all decide to take a break from the crowds and wander through an outdoor art exhibit on the north side of the fairgrounds. I don’t care so much about the art; I’m just hoping to find a moment of privacy with Laila. Unfortunately, quite a few people are milling around the colorful Japanese sculptures, posing in front of them for pictures.

  “Laila?” a girl calls out. Laila quickly lets go of my hand and runs to meet her friend with a hug. I recognize the girl from school. Her name is Dina, and she was in a few of our classes. She was always nice to us.

  She looks at me curiously.

  “Well, this is weird,” she says as she glances back and forth between me and Landry.

  “Yeah,” Laila says, “Will’s visiting for the weekend.”

  “It’s good to see him, right?” Landry adds.

  Dina quirks a brow at Laila and nods slowly. “Sure, hey, Will! How are things with you?”

  “Great.”

  “Now… did you move away, or…”

  “Yeah, I moved back to New York.”

  “Right, right,” she says. “But I thought you two broke up?”

  “Oh, no,” I say with a chuckle. “Just doing the long distance thing for a bit.”

  “Okay, right. I remember. Well, it’s great to see you, Will. Laila, call me tomorrow?”

  “After church,” she answers, waving goodbye to Dina. I wave politely, too.

  “Why don’t you ask her out, Landry? She’s cute. And smart.”

  “Because she used to pick her nose in kindergarten. I can’t ever forget that.”

  “God, Landry, who didn’t?”

  “It was incessant. All day, every day. And she sat next to me, and ugh!” He shivers, punctuating his sentence.

  “Will, he has some story like that for every girl at school, too.”

  “I guess you’ll have to wait for college, then, when you can meet a fresh batch of women,” I suggest.

  “Not every girl, Lai,” he corrects her. I still cringe when he shortens her name like that.

  “Right, that’s what you say. Oh, Will, did you see that piece over there?” Laila asks, dragging me with her to a large, ornate paper flower.

  “Stand under the red petal.” I pull out my phone to take a picture of her. “Now Landry, get in there with her.” They immediately start goofing around, doing exaggerated poses as I snap pictures of them, joining in their laughter.

  We sit in the lush lawn, soaking in the sunshine for about an hour before we decide to go have dinner. It’s six o’clock, and I’m losing any hope that I’ll be able to take Laila up to the hill like I’d wanted to. It’s okay, though. We’ve had a fun day together anyway. I think I always knew the chances of it happening were slim. Hopes were high; chances were very low.

  I stop to tie my shoe on the way to the car. When I stand back up, I notice Landry grabbing for Laila’s hand. She pulls away immediately, looking at him like he’s crazy.

  “Uhhh… Landry?” I call out to him, a good twenty feet behind them by now. He looks at both of their hands in shock. “I love the fact that you two are getting along so well, but this is a little too close for comfort,” I tease him.

  “You’re still here?” he jokes with me. “I thought you’d gone back to New York already.” They both laugh. “I mean, come on, Will. What’s wrong with me holding one of her hands? She’s got two!”

  “Shut up, Landry!” Laila says, pushing him playfully.

  “He’s always so greedy!” he says to her.

  When I catch up to them, I take both of her hands, and although it’s awkward for both of us to walk, our hands across our bodies, we stay like that until we make it to the car.

  I arrive back at Aunt Patty’s at 9:07, parking the car in the street and staring down the hill in front of me, killing the last three minutes in solitude. I’d only been able to kiss her twice in the car after we dropped Landry off. There were two stop signs in between their houses. Two kisses. That’s all I got. Her lips still tasted like the cotton candy she’d had earlier in the day; a gust of wind had blown a tuft of it in her face, and as she heartily laughed and tried to claw and lick it away, it made more of a mess.

  For both kisses in the car, she’d had tears in her eyes. We didn’t say goodbye. She said she she would always love me. I told her the same.

  “Wonderful Tonight”

  I carry the plastic bag with what’s left of the cotton candy into my aunt’s house, wondering ho
w long one can preserve the confection. My last taste of her. Sure, I could get cotton candy at Coney Island or any amusement park or fair that came to the city, but this was hers. This was mine to keep.

  “Did you have fun?” Aunt Patty asks.

  “I did,” I tell her with half a smile.

  “It doesn’t look like you did…”

  “It’s just kind of bittersweet. The last time I’ll get to hang out with them. The last time I’ll see her. But I’m glad I came. I’m glad we had the day together. It was fun.”

  “Good. Did you have dinner?”

  “Yeah, we went for burgers. I’m full.”

  “No room for pie?”

  “No way, but thank you.”

  “The car was okay?”

  “Yeah, no incidents. Thanks so much for letting me take it. I even checked for dings. Looks perfect still,” I assure her.

  “Well, it didn’t look perfect when you took it, but thanks for taking care of it.”

  “Of course.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to tag along to church with me?”

  “I’m sure. I’ll probably sleep late. Maybe get a little reading in. If you want me to start lunch, just leave me instructions, and I will.”

  “I just might do that. I have a pot roast that’ll need to go in the oven.”

  “Oh, yum. And I can manage that.”

  “Great. Thanks for your help, Will. And with that, I think I’m off to bed.”

  “Yeah, me, too. I’m wiped.” She stands up to hug me. “It was pretty hot today.”

  “Bathing might not be a bad idea,” she suggests.

  “Don’t be too subtle now,” I tell her. “Yeah, that was going to be my first stop.”

  “Sleep tight, Will.”

  “Thanks, Aunt Patty. You, too.”

  I take my time in the shower, washing all the sweat from my body and feeling the beginnings of a sunburn already. I also think about Laila, and wonder what she’s thinking about. Is this it? Do we just never talk again? Or can we still talk, and just keep it friendly? No suggestive conversations? No I love yous? What’s the protocol for this? We never really talked about it. I’m not sure I could continue to talk to her and pretend that I feel nothing for her, or refrain from telling her how I feel about her.

  So maybe we’re never supposed to talk again.

  As soon as I turn the water off, I hear my phone ringing on the counter and rush to answer it.

  “Hello?” I pull a towel off the rack and quickly try to dry my hair.

  “Is my crotch there?” a young boy’s voice says shakily.

  “Huh?” I look at the display to see who’s calling. It’s from Emi Holland’s phone.

  I hear giggles before he speaks again. “Is my crotch there?”

  “You’re saying it wrong. The joke is, has anybody seen Mike Rotch lately? You’ve been watching too many Simpsons episodes, Trey.”

  “Who’s Trey?” the obviously disguised voice of Trey Holland asks.

  “Trey,” I sigh, “you can’t make prank phone calls from your mom’s cell phone. I have her number programmed in mine. Put Max on the phone.”

  “Who’s Max?” Trey asks.

  “Want me to call your father?”

  “Here he is,” he says quickly.

  Max’s laughter fills my ear for fifteen seconds, making me smile. “You staying with the Hollands tonight?” I ask when he finally takes a breath.

  “Yeah,” he says.

  “I’m going to tell you a secret. There are ways to block your number when you make prank phone calls.”

  “How?”

  “I’m not telling you that part. Ask Jack. I bet he knows.”

  “You’re not going to tell on us are you?”

  “No. But how many other people have you called?”

  “Just Livvy and Jon. We left them messages.”

  “They’re gonna love those. Listen, don’t call anyone else until you figure out how to block the number. But stop using Emi’s phone. And definitely don’t use Jack’s. Trey should know better. Was this your idea?”

  He’s silent.

  “Max, don’t talk him into doing dumb things like this. Don’t make us look bad, okay?”

  “Okay,” he finally agrees.

  “It’s almost midnight. Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

  “I just had a soda.”

  “Ahhh… I bet Emi doesn’t know about that, either.”

  “That was Trey’s idea.”

  “Well, whosever idea it was… you guys better stay out of trouble. How are things? Why aren’t you at home?”

  “Mom had some friends over for dinner.”

  “Friends? Really? Do you know who?”

  “No. Jack picked me up before they came over.”

  “Interesting. Otherwise, you’re doing okay?”

  “Yep!”

  “Did you have breakfast and lunch today?”

  “Yep!”

  “What’d you have?”

  “A waffle and fruit for breakfast, and… a turkey sandwich a broccoli and ranch dressing for lunch,” he tells me.

  “Did mom eat with you?”

  “Yes. And we had milk.”

  “Good,” I respond. “That’s not bad.”

  “When are you coming home?” he asks.

  “Tomorrow night. Mom’s supposed to pick me up at eight, so I’ll be home after dinner.”

  “In time to play ball?”

  “Maybe. We can check out that park down the street.”

  “Okay. See you tomorrow, Will.”

  “Be good, Max. Good night.”

  “Night.”

  I laugh to myself as I finish drying off and dress in my boxers and a clean t-shirt. I can remember making prank phone calls from a friend’s house when I was Max’s age. We were pros, though. My friend had an older brother who’d taught us how to block the number, and we probably made hundreds of calls to random people one summer.

  It never got old.

  It’s been so long since I’ve done any pranks or really broken any rules, though. Since Jon moved out, it’s been up to me to set a good example around Max, and I’ve tried very hard to do that. He’s always around, watching me, mimicking me.

  But he’s not here now…

  I pick up the bathroom and take my things back to my room, settling into the bed with a book. I open it up to the dogeared page, but my eyes don’t focus on the words. They blur them out, as my mind drifts, trying to find a way–and the courage–to see Laila one more time.

  Is courage really the right term, when I’m thinking about sneaking out of the house and taking my aunt’s car to then convince my girlfriend to sneak out of her house to go have sex with me? Courage is bravery and gallantry.

  No, I’m not looking for courage.

  I just need to find the balls to do this. I need to set aside my conscience and just find the fucking cojones to get this done.

  I send Laila a message. “Can I call you?”

  My phone rings a few seconds later. “Hi, Laila.”

  “Hey,” she says, then sniffles.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m just sad.”

  “I know. I’m sorry about today,” I tell her.

  “Me, too. But it was fun with Landry, right?” she asks, trying to put a positive spin on it.

  “Of course, yeah. But I wanted to be alone with you.”

  “I wanted to be alone with you, too.”

  You can do this, Will. “What are you wearing?”

  “My satin pajamas.”

  “Is it, like, a dress?”

  “No, not like a dress. Just shorts and a top. What about you?”

  “Boxers and a t-shirt. I just took a shower.”

  “Me, too. I felt like I was covered in cotton candy.”

  “Yeah,” I laugh, remembering her smile in that moment. “Laila, are your parents asleep?”

  “Yes.”

  Just ask her. “Do you think you could… get out?”
>
  “Yes.”

  “Really?!”

  “Park down the street,” she says with no hesitation. “My window is on the west side of the house. I’ll be waiting.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I was hoping you’d ask.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Keep your phone close by. I’ll text when I’m outside.” After I hang up, I pull on the jeans I’d brought to wear tomorrow and slip into my Vans. I check my wallet to make sure the condoms are still there before tucking it in my back pocket. Quietly, I walk past my aunt’s room, listening briefly outside her door for any sounds. Like my mother, she snores, so I’m confident she’s asleep and I’m thankful her bedroom is on the back side of the house.

  I find the keys where I’d left them on the coffee table and open the front doors slowly, remembering how the outer one creaks. It barely makes a sound as I pass through the opening and shut it.

  I’d purposefully parked in the street and not in the driveway. I’d noticed the hill when I got home. I’d watched enough TV in my life to see how I could get away with this. I open the door, throw the car into neutral, and start to roll it down the hill. As it gains momentum about three-quarters of the way down, I finally start the engine.

  My heart is racing as I make my way to Laila’s house. I don’t just park down the street. I park a full street over, just in case, and weave my way through a neighbor’s walkway and an alley until I get to her window. The curtains are still drawn.

  I text her. “I’m here.”

  The fabric rustles, and suddenly I see Laila’s silhouette, barely visible in the moonlight. She’s whispering through the glass, but I can’t hear her. I point to the window, signaling for her to open it.

  She finally does. “I’m sorry. I’m nervous.” She says softly.

  “It’s okay.”

  “There are two tabs you have to pull,” she instructs me, “and it kind of sticks in that corner.” She points to the top right corner of the mesh screen. A part of me wants to ask her how she knows this, as if she’s done this before, but the adrenaline’s coursing through me, and the fear of getting caught is so severe that I just want to complete the task at hand and get her out of her room as soon as possible.

  I have no trouble with the screen, and I take her hand in mine to help her out. She’s wearing a knee-length cotton dress and sneakers. She pulls the window down most of the way, leaving just enough room for her fingers to push it back up when she returns.