by Jay McLean
“So you want to stop doing that—”
“No,” he cuts in, “That’s not why I’m saying it. I don’t really know what I’m saying. I guess I just wanted you to know that if there were someone in his life that I’d be proud to call his mother, it would be you.”
I choke on a sob and release his arm. “I can’t be his mother,” I whisper.
I can’t be anyone’s mother.
Ever.
18
-Joshua-
Chazarae’s eyes lock on mine and I can feel the beads of sweat building across my hairline. I wipe my palms against my jeans, my heart beating so hard I’m pretty sure it’s about to crack a rib. Vomit rises to my throat but I push it back quickly and swallow my nerves. “So… it’s just… I mean… we’ve gotten close lately—Becca and I. Not you and I. Me. You. Just…”
She quirks an eyebrow; her jaw tense.
I determine right then and there that she might possibly be the scariest old lady in the history of old ladies.
“Um… so I wanted… She’s been sad and—”
“What?”
“I mean Becca…”
“I know you mean Becca. She’s been sad?”
I nod. “And I-I-I wanted to do something to make her not so sad… so I was wondering if-if maybe you would mind if I could take her away somewhere… she doesn’t know. It would be a surprise.”
“What are you asking, Josh?”
“Uh… just your permission I guess.”
She eyes me sideways. “Oh, jeez. That’s it? You’ve spent the night at our house, she stays at yours, and you’re asking—”
“We haven’t had sex!” I blurt, because I’m an idiot.
“Josh,” Chaz says through an exhale. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“What?”
“I thought you were going to tell me she’s pregnant.”
I puke.
In my throat.
Just a little bit.
★★★
I hadn’t told Robby that Becca and I had spent every night together since the weekend she canceled our date, so when I asked him if they could take Tommy for the night, he had questions. Of course. And lots of them. The questions turned to advice and the advice turned to ridicule. And because, apparently, my uncle’s twelve, his biggest advice was to rub one out right before we left for the big night. And, because my uncle—who’s apparently my friend—has a big mouth, he told his wife all about it. Kim showed up the night of Robby and I’s great debate with a box of condoms; one hundred and forty-four of them. Then proceeded to give me a speech on what women want and expect in the bedroom—this speech consisted of, but was not limited to; touching, biting, caressing, and something about ice-cubes that I was too grossed out to listen to.
★★★
The second I open the door to our hotel room and we step in, my insides turn to stone and all the shitty advice I’d been given cause an epic amount of mayhem in my mind. Becca stands in front of me, her hands clasped together, her eyes on mine, expecting me to make the first move. So I do. I throw her on the bed, climb on, devour her mouth and start dry humping her leg. Surprisingly, she does the same. We roll around on the huge king-sized bed, our hands everywhere all at once and at some point she manages to take my shirt off without me realizing. We roll around some more until we fall off the bed with her landing on top of me, knocking the wind out of my lungs. “Sorry,” she mumbles, and we continue. A moment later she’s beneath me and her dress is off and she’s fumbling for my belt and I wonder why—why in all the advice given to me were the words, Don’t wear a belt. It’s awkward as fuck! never spoken.
Her eyebrows draw in and she pouts as she tries, in vain, to loosen the belt. Then she curses under her breath and her eyes lift from the belt to my face. “I…” she trails off.
“You what?” I pant.
“Is this… I don’t know. Is this weird?”
“You want to stop?”
She grimaces slightly and nods.
“Thank God!” I yell, letting her out from under me.
She sits with her ass on her heels and bubbles out a laugh—one I haven’t heard in a long time. “I’m sorry.”
“No. Please, don’t be sorry.” I move so my back’s against the bed and yank on her hand to bring her closer to me. “I think maybe we, or at least me, hyped up the sex thing so much in my mind and everyone made a big deal out of it—”
She gasps. “Who’s everyone?”
“No. Just Robby and Kim. They gave me all this stupid advice and a ridiculous amount of condoms it made me so nervous and I almost felt like if we just get it out of the way it wouldn’t be so bad. But that’s not why I brought you here. I just wanted some time with you, you know? Away from the everyday mundane stuff.”
“One,” she says, “I’m glad about the condoms even though I’m protected, I’m sure you want that piece of mind. And two: I get it. Completely. And thank you for thinking of me. I think I really need this.”
“Good, babe. I’m glad. And also—I’m starving.”
“You want to head out or get room service?”
“Room service,” I tell her. “I don’t want to share you with anyone tonight.”
We order food and when it comes, we set ourselves up on the table in the corner of the room and dig in. “I feel so grown up right now.”
“You are grown up,” she says.
“Sometimes. When I’m in Dad mode I am, but I’ve done some stupid immature shit,” I admit.
She rolls her eyes. “Like what? Let Tommy go to bed without eating his vegetables?”
I lean forward. “You think you know me?” I joke.
She smiles. “Seriously. Like what?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Like get drunk and smoke weed.”
“You smoked weed?”
I nod. “Don’t judge me.”
“No judgment here, but why’d you stop? Me?”
“No.” I set my fork on my plate and lean back in my chair. “The last time I did, I was with Hunter and Chloe, and the cops busted us.”
“You got arrested?” she almost yells.
“Almost. You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes right before you die? It was kind of like that and all I could see was Tommy and what would’ve happened if I’d been caught. I remember fearing that they’d take him away from me because I was irresponsible and Hunter—he must’ve seen the fear because he took the bag from me just as the cops walked up.”
“He took the blame?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“He would’ve if Chloe didn’t step up.”
“So Chloe copped it?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
I lean forward now, my forearms resting on the table. “Chloe—she’s had a complicated life. Before Hunter came along she kind of chose to be invisible. She took the blame for me because she didn’t believe she had anything to lose. I had Tommy, Hunter had his Duke scholarship and she—she had the road.”
“What’s the road?”
“It’s nothing,” I say, but my words come out harsher than intended.
Becca eyes me sideways and clears her throat. “It’s obviously something.”
“I don’t know, Becca. I don’t really like talking about it.”
“I’m so confused right now.”
I rub the back of my neck in frustration, but her eyes stay on mine.
“What does Chloe’s road, or whatever, have to do with you?”
“It’s not—” I break off with a sigh and try to piece together my thoughts. “So Chloe had this plan after she graduated, she’d just take off and hit the road and never look back. Like I said, her life was complicated and, if you ask me, she was running away. And Hunter—he just dropped everything—forgot everything else, and left with her.”
“So, you’re mad at Hunter for leaving?”
“No. I’m jealous of Hunter for being able to do that,” I finally admit. “I’m bitter because he co
uld so easily just drop everything and follow his heart.” I pause to take a breath, my mind reeling. “And I can’t—” I blurt out.
“But why would you need to?” she cuts in. “I get that having Tommy means you can’t just go on some random road trip but why? Was there a girl?”
“I don’t mean a girl,” I assure her. “I mean skating.”
“Oh.”
“Becca, please don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I don’t love Tommy or that I wouldn’t move heaven and earth for him because you know me, and you know I would,” I rush out. “It’s just I think about Hunter leaving and I get jealous and bitter that he could just do that—without a single care in the world. And I hate that I feel that because he’s my best friend and I’m happy for him. But sometimes I wonder, you know? Sometimes I go out there and skate till my feet hurt and my cheeks are numb from the pressure of the wind around me and I miss it. I’ll keep missing it. And I wonder if I’m any good at it—like, good enough to compete. But then I remember Tommy and remember that’s not my life or anything close to it. And I get angry and then afraid that that anger will show one day when I look at Tommy and that’s the last thing I want.”
“Josh…” she whispers, her voice laced with pity.
“It’s nothing,” I lie.
“Where was Tommy when Chloe got arrested?”
“I think he would’ve been with Natalie’s parents.”
“What?”
“Yeah, they take him once a month for the night.”
Her brow bunches. “I just—I mean…you’ve never once mentioned it. Has he been there since you and I—”
“He hasn’t been there for a few months. They’re on a six month cruise or something at the moment.”
Her eyes narrow.
“Is this a problem for you?”
“I don’t know,” she says, her gaze lifting and locking on mine. “It just seems strange that you haven’t brought it up. All this time I thought you had absolutely no connection with Natalie and now this. You’d think you’d tell me, right?”
“It just hasn’t really come up.”
“Josh,” she says incredulously. “We’ve spent all this time together and you never once thought to mention that Natalie was still part of Tommy’s life? Even if far removed, she’s still there. And she’s Tommy’s mom and your ex and…” She sighs. “Never mind. Eat your food.”
★★★
After our meal, she grabs her camera and starts taking pictures of anything and everything. From the view out on the balcony to the tiny soaps on the bathroom sink. She hides her smile behind the camera as she takes shot after shot of me goofing around trying to make her laugh. It works—and her laughter is a sound I’d spend my entire life craving. “You’re such a dork,” she whispers, climbing onto the bed and fluffing the pillows against the headboard.
I take it as my cue and sit on the bed, my back against the headboard and my legs spread waiting for her to join me—something we do almost every night so she can show me the photographs she’d taken that day. After getting up and grabbing her camera bag, she positions herself in front of me, but not close enough. I grasp her waist and pull her into me, my chin on her shoulder as she flips through the images. “I think you’ve got close to a thousand pictures of me.”
She smiles. “And it’s still not enough,” she says, reaching up and running her fingers through the back of my head.
“Do you have a favorite photo you’ve taken?”
“Of you, or ever?”
“Ever.”
“I have two,” she says.
“Can I see them?”
She turns in my arms, her gaze right on mine. Then she sighs. “I only have one here.”
“So show me.”
She inhales a huge breath before going through her bag and pulling out a memory card. She sits opposite me now, changes the cards over and starts flicking through the pictures. I keep my eyes on hers trying to read her expression. Occasionally she’ll chew her lip and look up at me, as if she’s nervous to show me. Her shoulders drop when she seems to find the one she’s looking for. Almost hesitantly, she turns the back of the camera toward me. It’s a picture of me skating. I’m in the air, on top of the pipe grabbing the board. It looks just like any other skate shot. “You take hundreds of photos a day and you’re telling me this one’s top two?”
She nods slowly. “It’s not about the photo,” she whispers, “it’s about the content.”
“Because it’s a picture of me?” I ask incredulously.
“No, Josh. Because it is you. In that moment, I captured who you are—what you love and what makes you happy… what sets you free.” She clears her throat and takes the camera from my hand and places it on the nightstand. Then she climbs over me, straddling my waist. She runs a finger down my chest, her head tilted to the side, her eyes following the path she’s creating. “When I was fourteen, I went on this field trip. I don’t even really remember where it was. I just remember being the only kid there who didn’t have a phone or a camera. Olivia was there—and she saw how left out I was because of it. She let me use her SLR. It was the first time I ever held one. She walked me through the basic steps and soon enough I was more interested in the camera than the actual field trip.”
She’s giving me a piece of herself—a piece of her past—something I’ve wanted for so long. So I stay silent, letting her speak.
“I don’t really know why but Olivia let me borrow her camera for the rest of the week. That camera, it was like your version of a skateboard. I’d take it everywhere with me and snap away at anything and everything, probably like how you’d skate anywhere and everywhere.”
I link my fingers behind her back and continue to watch her, smiling at the thought of her at that age doing exactly what she’s describing.
“There was this one picture I’d taken of this homeless man. The clouds had just formed together to hide the sun and the atmosphere had turned this eerie gray. I took the shot just as the first clap of thunder sounded and he was looking up to the skies, his hand out, palm up waiting to feel the rain descend. It wasn’t until I got to school and Olivia and I looked at it on the computer that I saw a bead of water had splashed against his forehead… and his eyes, I’ll always remember the first time I saw his eyes. They were so dull, so lifeless, so hopeless. And I remember this ache in my chest when I reached out to touch the screen. I traced the lines on his face, the wrinkles that donned him, and I thought that it was horrible that his eyes held such lifelessness; because those lines—each crease on his face—they told a story. Good or bad. There was a story behind this man and I wanted to ask him about every single one.” Her voice turns to a whisper. “And with my hand on my computer screen and my heart racing, I knew it. I’d fallen in love with something. I’d fallen in love with photography and the ability it had to capture a split second moment and evoke something emotional out of me. And if I could do that for the rest of my life—capture moments that made me question life—then that’s what I wanted to do.”
I stare at her, silent and unblinking. Then, finally, I lean forward and kiss her shoulder. “Your perfection is overwhelming.”
She laughs a little and places her hands behind my neck before leaning back. “When did you know?”
“Know you were perfect? The first time I saw you step out of your grams’ car—”
“No.” She smiles. “I mean, when did you know you were in love with skating?”
I release a heavy breath, feeling the weight shift and tighten in my chest. I look back up at her; past the frown on her lips, the freckles on her nose to her eyes—waiting for me to give her a piece of me. “I was fifteen,” I tell her. “I’d snuck out of the house while my parents were asleep and went to the skate park. There was no one there, just me and the moon and the stars. I was there for hours, fooling around, excited that I had the place to myself. I didn’t do anything special, or miraculous or land some epic trick or anything. I was just skating for the sake of skating.
And I remember standing on edge of the coping, my foot on the tail of the board and just breathing in the night air, and I looked around me with nothing but ramps and posts and my private concrete playground.” I laugh once, remembering the moment. “My mom texted me and it said ‘Don’t wake your dad when you come home. Leave your board in the garage.’ She knew where I was and what I was doing past midnight on a school night and she didn’t really care. I leaned my weight at the front of the board and flew down the pipe. I promised myself I’d only be a few more minutes, but the minutes turned to hours and when the sun started to come up I knew I had to go home. So, I attempted one more trick and I got to end of the pipe and my board left me and I was in the air and the sun was this perfect orange coming up from the horizon and I think that’s when it happened. While I was in the air, my board somewhere beneath me and the wind surrounding me and I just… it was a split second, you know? But in that moment, I had no fears… nothing holding back. Just the sun rising letting me know there was a new a day. A clear future. And it was that feeling I fell in love with. Being weightless and free. Being airborne.”
“Airborne?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Airborne.”
She returns my nod, her mouth slightly parted and her eyes right on mine. She starts to speak, but cuts herself off. This happens twice before she finally says, “Have you heard of SK8F8?”
“Of course I have. Why?”
“You know there’s a comp in a few months. It’s open registration.”
I sigh, frustrated, and lean back on my arms, my head tilted back, my eyes focused on the ceiling.
“I’m sorry,” she says, “I know the heartache you associate with skating and I’m being insensitive. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“Yep.”
“It’s just that you said yourself that you want to know if you’re any good. And you have the chance to do that. Josh…” She cups my face and makes me look at her. “It just breaks my heart to hear you talk about something with so much passion and love and know that you feel like you can’t have it. Who’s to say you can’t? It’s different now, right? Tommy’s older and you have me and Grams and your aunt and uncle. Why not try? Why not see if you’re good enough?”
