Forever for a Year

by B. T. Gottfred

  * * *

  So we took the train into Chicago. And we got out at Union Station. I had never gone downtown on the train without my parents before, so it felt very grown-up. Then we took a cab to Michigan Avenue and we walked along the street and went into all the fancy shops, like Macy’s and Saks Fifth Avenue, and he said, “I’d like to buy you a dress.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “But how will you pay for it?”

  “I’ve saved money.”

  “But—”

  “And you have to spend at least one hundred dollars.”

  “Trevor!”

  “Carolina!” he said. Mocking me! Mocking me! And I liked it!

  “Trevor, why are you being so nice?”

  “Because I love you.”

  “Oh gosh, I love you so much.”

  “You do?” he said, and I could tell he wasn’t joking. He was really asking. Oh my gosh. Trevor knew I had been thinking bad thoughts about us. He knew. Obviously he knew. He’s my soul mate. Soul mates always know.

  “I love you so much, so much, so much, so much, and I just forgot to show it the right way. I’m sorry, you are the most amazing boy ever, and I’m the luckiest girl ever, and I’m so happy I want to cry.” And then I cried.

  * * *

  After he bought me a yellow one-shoulder dress from Saks, we took a cab to the Willis Tower. Which used to be the Sears Tower and the tallest building in the world. We went up super high to the Metropolitan Club and he gave the hostess his name, and she said, “Right this way, Mr. Santos,” and then she walked us to a table that overlooked the entire city and Lake Michigan from all the way up in the clouds. This was now my favorite day of my life, and I wanted to marry him right then and I wanted to kiss him and be close to him and do everything with him.

  On the train ride home, I thought we should have sex tonight. Yes. I know I said I would wait until my birthday. But today I felt so, so grown-up. I felt eighteen. Even older maybe. Today was THE special day. It was. At the train station in Riverbend, his mom picked us up. She got in the back and let Trevor drive us.

  “Did you have fun?” she asked.

  “It was the best day of my life,” I said.

  “I’m glad. Trevor spent a lot of time thinking about it.”

  “My mom helped a little,” Trevor said. Everything was perfect again. His mom liked me again. Trevor was cool again. I was in love again. (I had never stopped! I’m just saying I FELT it again.)

  Except … Trevor took me straight to my house. I didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to kiss me? He didn’t want to go into the basement like we always did? He didn’t find me attractive anymore?

  At my house, he got out and walked me to the door. I finally had to ask, “You didn’t want to hook up tonight?”

  “I just wanted you to know I could have a great date with you without hooking up.”

  “Really?” I said, and I almost started crying. Gosh. But I didn’t.

  “Yes.”

  “You made me feel sooo special today, Trevor. Like we were special together too.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “So can we go back to your house now and go to the basement?”

  He laughed. Laughed!

  “Why are you laughing?”

  “Because I thought you were tired of doing sex stuff with me.”

  “I’m not!” I said, even though I had been. But now I wanted it more than I ever had before. Like I needed him. Gosh. Gosh. Gosh.

  “I’m glad. But I still want to wait today.”

  “Why are you being so different? Do you not find me attractive anymore?”

  “Carolina … you’re the sexiest girl in the universe.”

  “I don’t believe you,” I said. Why was I acting so pathetic now? BECAUSE MY BOYFRIEND DIDN’T WANT TO HOOK UP WITH ME!

  “Carolina … I’ve … been … excited almost the entire day with you.”

  “Down there?”

  “Yep.”

  “Even though we weren’t making out?”

  “Yep.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. Does that make me strange?”

  “No,” I said. “That makes me feel good.”

  “Really?” he said.

  “Yeah. Does that make me weird?”

  “No. I like it. So much. But I should go. My mom is waiting.”

  “Oh … okay,” I said, then Trevor kissed me and went back to his car.

  * * *

  When I got to my room, I missed Trevor so much. I wished I were with him so much. I wished we were naked in his basement. I wished I could make him feel good so he’d know how much I loved him. So … gosh … I put on my new dress, and I, uh, pulled the single strap over my shoulder and I hiked the skirt up so it was almost to my underwear. And then …

  I took a picture in the mirror.

  OH MY GOSH. I said I would never do this. You read about this stuff in the news. You read about this STUPID girl who took sexy pictures and sent them to a boy and then those pictures got sent around and everyone calls her a slut and her life is over and she has to move or something. But I ignored EVERY SMART PART OF MY BRAIN and texted Trevor the picture. I just had to. I just had to make him happy. Would that make him happy? I don’t even know and I sent it anyway. And then I waited and Trevor texted me:

  TREVOR

  You are the sexiest girl to ever walk

  the earth.

  And for one second I hated myself. Hated myself that I sent the picture. But also hated that I loved his compliment so much. Why can’t girls just be strong and smart and successful? Why do we have to be sexy too? But we do. Or I do. I want to be sexy. I hate that I do. But I do. And I loved that Trevor made me want to be sexy for him. Again. Or more. Or in a new way.

  54

  Trevor goes to dinner

  My special train ride date into Chicago had worked. Really worked. Carolina sent me a sexy picture. She made me promise not to show anyone, which she didn’t need to ask because I’d literally rather cut off my hand than show anyone a sexy picture of Carolina. Why would I want other boys to know how sexy she is? Then they would want her and I would have competition. Maybe not. But either way, no way would I show anyone. I would never betray her like that. Ever.

  The next couple weeks, Carolina would text me fun stuff like “thinking of being naked with you” and “wish we were in your basement right now.” She even sent me a few more pictures. Never of any actual naked private parts. You know, boobs or butt or anything. But what she sent was better. It made me have to imagine what I couldn’t see. Made me think of her all the time. Made me think I’d be happy the rest of my life as long as Carolina was my girl.

  * * *

  The following weekend she said we should have a dinner with our parents. When she brought it up, the skin on my face sucked back all at once. Like it wanted to peel away from her even though my actual brain didn’t think it was such a bad idea. Yeah, a couple months ago, it would have been the crappiest idea ever. No way would I want to expose her parents to my mom’s nuttiness. But my mom had been awesome the past month. She had been a real mom. Better than a real mom. She had given me insights and truths that I bet no other mom would ever give. Because she wanted to treat me with respect. I loved it. I loved her again, maybe. I never stopped loving her. I guess I trusted her again, which is more important than love because it has to be earned.

  So that’s why I said yes. Yes, we could have our parents all meet. Carolina was so excited, it got me excited.

  “Should we tell them we’re engaged?” she yelped out.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m serious!”

  “Me too.”

  “You’re not serious, Trevor,” she said.

  “You’re not either,” I said.

  “But someday I will be.”

  Then I said something my old self would have fucking shot myself for saying: “Someday I’ll spend the rest of my life with you, Carolina.” She did
that “awww” thing girls do and then leaped into my arms.

  * * *

  On the Friday before Christmas, my parents, Lily, and I met Carolina and her parents at an Italian restaurant called Pontarelli’s in town. My dad said the Fishers should choose the restaurant. He didn’t say why, but I knew: my dad didn’t want to choose a restaurant Carolina’s parents might find expensive.

  We got to the restaurant first. I was too stressed out not to force my family to arrive early. But the Fishers were ten minutes late. As we waited, I started obsessing about my mom seeing Carolina’s dad for the first time since high school. What if they had been in love? What if they’d had sex? Would it be awkward? Crap. What if they fell back in love at first sight and tore apart our families and then Carolina and I would feel responsible, and … Screw it, I wasn’t going to think about it.

  Turns out I worried for nothing. When Carolina’s parents walked in, all four adults stood up, shook hands with sort of fake smiles, then sat back down. I didn’t notice one look between my mom and Scott.

  Lily said, “This is all so exciting,” and everyone laughed because she’s the best. Carolina and I sat next to each other, but we didn’t say much. All I could do was hope my mom didn’t start acting like she’d rather be dead than at dinner with strangers. Carolina had this strange smile frozen on her, like she couldn’t decide what she was feeling, so she would just grin through everything. After the adults talked about “how wonderful it is that we found first love” and what to order for appetizers, Carolina’s mom said, “Ashley, Scott says you two knew each other in high school. What an amazingly small world we live in.”

  “Oh, of course … from Midnight Dogs, right, Scott?” my mom said, but with a very blank face. Almost too blank. She’d smiled when I first told her that Carolina’s dad remembered her. Now she was acting like she didn’t care. Like it was nothing. I didn’t need her to smile and act excited, but I needed her to not act like it was nothing. I hated when my mom did this. So aloof and snobby, like she thought she was too good for someone. I wished, when she acted like this, that my mom would remember that if she was so goddamn perfect she wouldn’t have tried to kill herself.

  After we ordered, Lily asked, “Mr. and Mrs. Fisher, do you think Trevor and Carolina are soul mates? I do. But I’m only seven, so I’m not as old as adults.” The Fishers laughed, of course.

  Carolina’s mom said, “I am happy they found something special, but I think they are very young.”

  Then my mom, who had been stone-faced quiet for twenty minutes, said, “But, really, does it matter that they are young? Are you any more sure Scott is your soul mate at forty-six than they could be as teenagers?”

  “Ashley,” my dad said, trying to shut her up. Which he should have. Because Mrs. Fisher was red-faced. But I also liked what my mom said. I’ve always thoughts kids knew just as much as adults. We just don’t have the power to do anything about it.

  “Maybe you’re right,” Carolina’s mom said. You could tell she would rather slam her head into the table than get into an argument with my mom.

  Then Scott said, “How about this answer, Lily. Yes, I think they are soul mates. But I don’t necessarily think that means we only have one soul mate.” And then, I swear I fucking saw this, he looked right at my mom. For, like, the shortest glance ever. Then he leaned over and kissed his wife on the cheek. But I saw that look. I saw it. I know I did. And it meant something. I’m not sure what it meant, but I’m sure it meant something and I’m goddamn sure it meant something horrible.

  55

  Carolina gets a Christmas present

  So the dinner with our parents was a huge, amazing success. Just amazing. This is going to sound weird, but it almost felt like Lily was our child and they were the four grandparents. I know, that’s crazy, but Trevor and I were so mature. We really were. I know I used to say how I wanted to act mature but deep down I knew I was still immature. Then I was bored of trying to be mature, but now it was just who we were and I loved what we were more than ever. Other kids looked at us like this super-experienced couple. Girls would ask for my advice on love and relationships. Boys didn’t really ask Trevor because boys are always afraid of asking questions, but you could tell they respected him for having a serious girlfriend so fast. Really.

  Anyway.

  So for Christmas, which Trevor and I celebrated on the morning of Christmas Eve, I bought a picture frame that said TOGETHER FOREVER and put a photograph of us from our date downtown at the Metropolitan Club since that was my favorite date ever. On the back, in Sharpie, I wrote, Merry Christmas to the love of my life —Carolina. Then I hid a sexy picture of me just in a towel after a shower behind the real picture. I printed it in black and white and tried to make it as artistic as possible. I also gave him a card that said how much I loved him and talked about how I could never have imagined I would have the most amazing boy ever as my boyfriend. It was really nice, and I meant every word. I told Trevor he didn’t have to get me a Christmas present because he had bought me that dress at Saks Fifth Avenue, but I don’t think I meant it because after he opened my present, he said, “You told me not to get one.” And this huge hole exploded in my heart and dropped into my stomach, but then he laughed.

  “Why are you laughing?” I screamed.

  “Because of course I got you a Christmas present, Carolina.”

  Then I leaped into his lap even though I didn’t even know what the present would be. He reached under the couch and pulled out two boxes. One big. But not clothes big. The other small. Like jewelry small. (OH MY GOSH, IS HE GOING TO PROPOSE?) I asked, “Which should I open first?”

  “The big one.” So I tore open the wrapping paper, then pulled open the box, and peeled back the tissue to find a notebook. It was leather. Nice leather. On it, in black Sharpie just like I’d used on his card, Trevor had written, The Story of Carolina and Trevor. And, oh my gosh, I got butterflies in every molecule in my body, and I opened to the first page. It said, “On the first day, she gave him two pieces of paper…” And there was a sketch, like a really, really, really good one, of a girl’s hand laying two pieces of paper onto a desk.

  “Oh my gosh, who drew this?”

  “I did.”

  “YOU DID?”

  “Yes.”

  “Trevor, this is amazing. You’re, like, an artist. Why didn’t I know you could draw like an artist?”

  “I’ve never shown anyone. Lily, I have. But not even my parents.”

  “You are so talented,” and tears, happy tears, formed in my eyes as I turned to the next page and the next page and the next. It was each of our most important days captured with one description and one beautiful drawing. My boyfriend was an artist. He was handsome and a great athlete and an artist. I found the perfect boy. I did. I really did.

  By the time I had read through the entire notebook, my face was filled with tears and a big, silly smile. I had forgotten about the other box. Not really. But sort of. So I opened it …

  And it wasn’t a diamond ring. I guess we weren’t getting married. But that was just me being crazy. I wouldn’t have said yes anyway. Yes, I would have. But then I would have said we should keep it secret until we were eighteen. Anyway. It was a necklace. A gold necklace with a gold heart. It was really beautiful. But not as beautiful as the book he made. Nothing would ever be as beautiful as that.

  * * *

  My brother, Heath, didn’t get home from college until late Christmas Eve. He was supposed to come home last Saturday, but then he said he was staying with his girlfriend in Denver. My mom’s feelings were hurt, but Heath didn’t know that because my mom never talked about her feelings.

  When he walked through the door with my dad, who had picked him up at the airport, Heath looked very different. Like a stranger. Like, when did he start dressing so nicely? I didn’t even think we were related anymore. We had texted and Facebooked a little bit since August, but it was always him asking the same thing: “How’s Mom?” and I would tell hi
m Mom and Dad were in love again and tell him a long story about Trevor except he would just write back, “That’s great, C,” and not say anything about his life or ask anything else about mine. I guess Heath and I never talked that much about serious things. He always looked out for me, but the five years’ difference between us made it hard to share much more than parents, I guess.

  After we opened presents Christmas morning, we had brunch. Well, we called it brunch even though it wasn’t even nine a.m. yet. We had to eat early because my mom had to work a shift at noon. She always seemed to work on Christmas so I was used to it.

  Heath asked me more questions about Trevor while we ate the egg soufflé that my mom had made, which I liked. I told him we were soul mates. He laughed, but it was a supportive laugh.

  My dad eventually said, “You haven’t told us much about your girlfriend, Heath.”

  Heath looked at my dad like they shared a secret. I didn’t like that they knew something I didn’t. Maybe I was wrong. But then Heath reached over and grabbed my mom’s hand and said, “My girlfriend is a boyfriend, and his name is Michael.”

  For, like, a second, I didn’t know what to think. I mean, my brother was … gay? That’s what he was telling us? Right? But he had girlfriends in high school. Well, one. And, yeah … they weren’t like Trevor and I. Not at all. Oh. My. Gosh. I jumped up, got in my brother’s lap, and hugged him. We never hugged much, but I thought he needed it. He probably didn’t. My brother has always been the strongest person I know. Maybe I wanted to give him a hug anyway. While I was in his lap, I noticed my mom was crying.

  My dad said, “This is a great day, Ellie. Our son is who he is meant to be. I’m so proud of him.”

  “Heath, do you know how difficult it is to be gay? Do you know how many people will judge you? Can you think about this before you make up your mind? I don’t want your life to be so much more difficult than it has to be.”

  “Goddamn it, Ellie,” my dad said.

  “It’s okay, Dad,” Heath said. But I was really, really mad at my mom. I mean, I never thought she would be prejudiced. She never was. She always voted for gay rights and told me everyone is equal and everything. But I guess she thought it was okay for everyone but her son.