“I wouldn’t even tell you if she told me not to.”
“You wouldn’t tell me?” That hurt. Carolina would keep a secret from me. We were soul mates and we were going to spend the rest of our lives together. But she would keep a secret from me already.
“Trevor, I’d eventually tell you, of course, once Shannon trusted me. But that’s not important. What’s important is why isn’t she texting me?”
“She will.”
“You think so?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Oh, I hope you’re right. Everything would be better if I knew she was okay and not dead.” Then Carolina hugged me, dug her face into my chest. It was a Saturday night. A month since Shannon disappeared. We were in my basement. I really wanted to kiss, make out, hook up, get naked, have her kiss me down there, but Carolina didn’t want to. I could tell. She hadn’t been very excited about doing sexual stuff the last two weeks. I started to feel like I was the second most important person in her mind and the first most important person was probably dead.
51
Carolina talks to Alexander Taylor
My birthday was on January 9. On November 20 I made a decision. I was going to have sex on my birthday. I know I said I would wait until college, and then I said I would wait until I was a junior, but then Shannon Shunton disappeared and everything was different. It wasn’t ruined. I didn’t even think that anymore. I’d never think that again. I know I say things and then I don’t always do the things I say, but this time it really was the case. So nothing was ruined. It was just changed. I was changed.
Club soccer season was over. So I didn’t see Peggy at all anymore. Obviously I saw her in class, but we didn’t sit next to each other and never said anything about anything. Kendra and I talked a lot. Mostly about school. We didn’t even talk about Trevor that much. What was there to talk about? Trevor was amazing, I loved him, he loved me, we were going to get married someday. It was all decided. I didn’t even think about it that much anymore. It just was what it was and it was going to be what it was going to be.
We went to movies with his sophomore friends, and I supposed they were my friends too, but I never felt like I really belonged. Apart from movies, we just had dinner alone, either at a restaurant in Riverbend or ordered in to his house, then went to his basement, got naked, and hooked up. It was great. I still loved kissing him. And I liked that I could make him feel good, but what he did to me only felt good once in a while and, I don’t know, I wanted to do stuff besides hook up in his basement. I wanted to go to parties and see people. I wanted to go to new places, like downtown Chicago, or at least outside Riverbend. I definitely wanted to marry Trevor someday, but I wanted to marry him in ten years, not right then. I still wanted to be a teenager. I’m rambling. I was just upset about Shannon. Trevor was perfect. He didn’t do anything wrong. I was so lucky he was my boyfriend.
* * *
Remember that boy that talked to me, like, on the first day of school? The junior. The weird junior that dressed in ties and acted mysterious? His name was Alexander Taylor. It still is. I just sort of forgot he existed when Trevor and I fell in love. I would see him once in a while, and he would stare at me. But I didn’t think about it. He never said anything to me, and I certainly never said anything to him.
But then, on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving break, I went to the bathroom during study hall. I had gone every day since Shannon disappeared. Don’t know why. Yes, I do. I kept thinking she’d be hiding there, waiting for me. But … obviously … she was never there.
Anyway, on my walk to the bathroom, through the empty alien planet that school seems when you walk around the halls alone, Alexander Taylor was waiting there, standing in front of the girls’ bathroom door. Weird, like the first time.
“Hi, freshman,” he said.
“Hi,” I said. And he had that same look he’d had when he first approached me. Like he wanted to do stuff to me. Sex stuff. But I understood it better now. It didn’t scare me as much. It didn’t scare me at all. Okay, maybe a little. But maybe I liked being scared. Maybe everything with Trevor was so perfect and safe, I wanted to be scared right this second. I don’t mean that. I don’t know what I mean. Forget it.
“How’s puppy love?”
“My boyfriend is amazing.”
“Don’t become boring or I’ll lose interest in you,” he said.
“I’m not boring,” I said, even though I wanted to say, I’ll never be interested in you, which was true, obviously, because I was only interested in Trevor. But for some reason I didn’t say anything else.
Then Alexander Taylor said, “We’ll see,” and lifted up my chin with his two fingers, looked so far into my eyes I felt embarrassed, and then he walked away. I ran into the bathroom and kept telling myself what a freak he was, but I couldn’t stop thinking about his face and his eyes. Trevor was sooo much better-looking. Trevor was sooo much better … in every way. Gosh. But, and I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS EVEN ENTERED MY HEAD, I wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Kiss Alexander. Would his lips feel the same as Trevor’s? Would he move his tongue the same way? Would he taste different?
* * *
Oh. My. Gosh. I took out my phone and texted Trevor how much I loved him. How I loved him more than ever. Then I texted him that we should see each other that night, but he said he had basketball practice. Why did Trevor even try out for the basketball team? We could see each other almost every day if he hadn’t made the stupid basketball team. Because now, when I needed to see him most, he was busy. It was his fault I was thinking about Alexander Taylor. Then Trevor texted:
TREVOR
But I’m super excited to see you
(and your beautiful naked body)
tomorrow night.
Ugh. How could Trevor only think about hooking up all the time? I was sick of his stupid basement! He was boring. Maybe I was boring. Maybe we were boring.
52
Trevor tries out for basketball
So I started thinking about sex. Anything sex. Hooking up. Hand jobs. Blow jobs. Even the real big thing. All. The. Fucking. Time. Which could be embarrassing. And a pointless waste of time. Right? Every time I saw Carolina at school, I would get, you know, a hard-on. (Not every time, but way too often, okay?) I’d text her stuff like “thinking about your sexy stomach,” except she would text me back “I love you so much,” which was cool, but not what I was hoping for. I don’t know what I was hoping for. It’s not like you could have sex over text.
I wanted to see her more than just on Friday and Saturday nights and Sunday afternoons, but she said her mom wouldn’t allow her out on school nights. That might have been true, but it felt like Carolina wanted it to be true. I was glad she was a good student, but did she really want to be with me as much as I wanted to be with her if she could not see me for five days? I suppose we saw each other at school all those days. I mean, you know, no making out and hooking up.
Yeah. So. Guess what? I started looking at porn … more … and it excited me even though before it didn’t. Yeah. So. I masturbated. God, I felt dumb doing it. I made sure to turn the music loud even though I only did it when no one was home. (At first at least.) So dumb. I told myself after it was over that I would never do it again.
But then I did it the next day.
I didn’t do it the next day and I thought I might be cured of it.
But then I did it the next day and the next and the next.
I searched the internet for masturbation addiction, but I didn’t seem to be as bad as those cases. I just felt so stupid and I hated feeling stupid. I wanted to not do it at all or only do it once a week or maybe twice. I couldn’t talk to my parents about it. No way. Not to boys either. That’s strange, dude. I almost talked to Carolina about it, but how can you talk to a girl about masturbation? So I could only think about not wanting to do it, which made me think about it, which made me want to do it. I was going insane! Crap! All these internet sites said masturbation was very healthy
and a way to better understand your own sexuality. But what was I understanding besides the fact that I liked to make myself have orgasms? The religious sites were very judgmental and looked like they were written by zombies from the Middle Ages, so those didn’t help at all.
And then …
My dad said something. He said, “You gonna try out for basketball?”
And I said, “No.”
And he said, “I think you need to stay busy during the winter.” And the way he said it? He knew. He knew what I was doing in my room all the time. He didn’t say any more than that. But I knew he knew. And I felt so goddamn stupid I wanted to die. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap.
“Yeah, okay, maybe,” I said, and walked away. I signed up for basketball tryouts the next day.
* * *
So I made the freshman team. Licker made it as well. My cousin Henry and Jake said they were going to wrestle, but then they decided to just lift weights for the winter. After cross-country and football ended, they had started talking to me again. Which was fine. I didn’t care enough to ignore them. Aaron and Tor were much better friends than they could have ever been, so I wasn’t mad anymore. I wasn’t really mad about anything anymore. How could I be? I had Carolina. Every day she got more beautiful. Every day I fell more in love with her. I know how stupid that sounds. I know. But it’s true. Yeah, I wish she thought about sex as much as me, but maybe I wouldn’t respect her as much if she did. Maybe girls have to be more controlled when it comes to physical stuff or else we would all go crazy.
It’s just … Carolina didn’t seem to like it as much anymore. I couldn’t make her orgasm no matter how hard I tried, and she had learned to make me orgasm in five minutes or less if she really wanted. Which wasn’t as fun as when we would make out for a long time and then, you know, finish.
On the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, after we had hooked up in my basement, I asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Something’s wrong, Carolina.”
“Nothing’s wrong. Let’s watch TV.”
“I want to talk.”
“What do you want to talk about?” she asked.
“About what’s wrong with you.”
“Nothing’s wrong, Trevor.”
“I love you,” I said.
“I love you too,” she said, but it didn’t feel like she meant it. And then I could feel myself breathing fast, and not able to concentrate. I turned on the TV so she could watch something besides me imploding. Crap. What had I done wrong? Crap. Everything was perfect and now she was acting differently. Do something. Say something. You’re going to lose her. But I didn’t know what to do or say so I just watched TV with her. We didn’t say anything. We didn’t even hold hands. Just sat there. Next to each other. Like we were strangers again. Except we were in our underwear and we were in love.
* * *
The next day, I found my mom taking a nap in her room. But her eyes were open. Just staring out the window like she was thinking deeply or she was half dead. Who knew with her? So I asked her if she could talk.
“I’m tired,” she said.
“Okay,” I said, and turned around.
Then she said, “What is it, Trevor?”
“We can talk about it later.”
“No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Let’s talk now. Is it about Carolina?”
I turned around and went and lay on the bed next to her. We had not done this for years. Now it felt strange. Like I was too old. But screw it. I needed advice. “Yeah,” I said.
“Did you have a fight?”
“No … it’s just … she doesn’t seem to love me as much anymore.”
“Has she said something?”
“No … it’s just something’s changed.”
“Falling in love doesn’t last forever. You might be transitioning from the ‘falling in love’ stage to the ‘being in love’ stage.”
“What does that mean?”
“What nobody tells you is that the ‘falling in love’ stage is just one big pit of quicksand.… It’s so fun, so addicting you don’t notice … but then, once it’s over, you are stuck. You’re too attached to the person to leave, so you keep waiting around for the ‘falling in love’ feeling to start again … except it never really does, but if you wait around long enough, the ‘being in love’ stage begins and it’s great in a whole other way.”
“Is that what happened with Dad?”
“Yeah, of course,” she said, but she looked away. Was she lying?
“How long did the ‘falling in love’ stage last with you and Dad?”
“We were … I don’t know … a couple months. We got married before it ended.”
“And how long before the ‘being in love’ stage started?”
“I’ll let you know,” she said, then laughed. “I’m kidding. I don’t know. Maybe a year.”
“A year?”
“Well, it all happens faster when you’re young.”
“But I don’t feel like the ‘falling in love’ part is over for me. How can I make her fall in love with me again?”
“I’m sure she still is.”
“Mom, but if she weren’t … how could I?”
“Well … girls like to know they’re worth some effort.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means … you two spend an awful lot of time in the basement.”
I. Was. Mortified. Like I could tear open my stomach and yank out my guts.
“Trevor, I already gave you the sex talk. I’m not going to bore you a second time with that.”
“We aren’t having sex!”
“Well, that’s fine. You still have those condoms?”
“We aren’t having sex, Mom!”
“Trevor. Great. But you’re doing a lot of other stuff. Are you being nice to her? Making sure she’s happy?”
“I try … but I’m not good at making her have orgasms.…” I can’t believe I just said the word “orgasms” to my crazy mother. Shit.
“No teenage boy in the world is. I’m sure you are very nice and courteous. Keep communicating with her like I said, but I didn’t really mean if she was happy sexually. I meant, why don’t you take her somewhere special? Somewhere besides pizza in Riverbend?”
“Like what?”
“Like … take her downtown. Take the train downtown next weekend. Have her dress up. Make a reservation at a popular restaurant on Rush Street or Michigan Avenue or maybe ask Dad about the Metropolitan Club. Hold her hand. And then, when you get home, kiss her good night without taking her to the basement.”
Goddammit, did I feel stupid! How could she presume so much? She didn’t know what we were doing in the basement. She didn’t know what Carolina really felt. She thought she knew everything, but she knew nothing. I hated my mom.
For a minute.
Damn. I thought about it. And I just sat there. The heat in my skull cooled. And my mom didn’t say anything. I looked at her. Looked at my mom. She was pretty great. What if she had really died when she tried … and I started crying. I had never cried before about it. It was so dumb not to cry about it then. And so dumb to cry about it now.
“Why are you crying, Trevor?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, then I curled up, and laid my head near hers. She kissed my forehead. It was the first time I can remember us hugging or kissing since before she tried to kill herself.
53
Carolina takes a train ride
On Sunday night, the Sunday after Thanksgiving, Trevor texted me:
TREVOR
Are you free next Saturday?
Obviously I was free. I had no life but Trevor.
ME
You know I am.
But then:
TREVOR
Not just night. The whole day.
Now, this was weird. He was being weird.
ME
Yeah. Why?
And the
n:
TREVOR
Because I’m planning something
special.
And, oh my gosh, my brain got super excited. Special? Like what? So I texted him to tell me what, but he said it was a surprise. Which only made me more excited. Then I thought Trevor didn’t know how to plan something special. So I demanded he tell me or I would be mad. I didn’t want to spend a week getting excited and then be disappointed. He should disappoint me today! But he texted:
TREVOR
Then you’ll have to get mad because
I’m not telling you ;)
Oh my gosh! Trevor didn’t care that I would get mad! How could my boyfriend not care that I would get mad? But then I realized I was smiling. Grinning. Just a small one. Wait a minute: Did I like that he didn’t care? That would be crazy. But I think I did. I liked that he was being secretive. I liked that I had to guess. Oh my gosh, am I screwed up or what? I didn’t care. Being screwed up and excited about your boyfriend is much better than being normal and bored with him.
* * *
So on the following Saturday, Trevor picked me up (with his dad sitting in back) and, at first, I thought we were just driving into Riverbend to see a movie, but we drove past the theater and stopped at the train station.
“Are we going on the train?”
“How’d you figure that out?” Trevor said, smiling, but still, he was being sarcastic with me. Which … I kind of liked. As we were waiting on the platform, I asked, “Where are we going?”
“On the train,” he said. OH, HE WAS DRIVING ME CRAZY!
“WHERE on the train are we going, Trevor?”
“You’ll see, babe,” he said, then winked. Trevor was being so cool. Again. I mean, he was always cool, I guess. But then I fell in love with him and found out everything about him and I had seen him naked a thousand times and heard him pee and seen him sleep and seen him after he woke up and seen him with saliva on his face and smelled his farts and, I don’t know, he was Trevor then and not this cool, handsome new boy. But today … he was that boy again. I had to kiss him. Just had to. A big kiss. Gosh. This was amazing.
Forever for a Year Page 20
