by Don Calame
“Uhhh, yeah, for a reason. Nobody’s going to sit through a film shot on someone’s cell phone.”
“It’s not going to be all cell-phone footage,” Coop argues. “I’ve got our old scenes on my computer. So we can still use those. We’ll edit the phone footage in between. It’ll be dope. It adds a voyeuristic element. Makes it more personal. And intense. Seriously. I’m actually glad that this happened because it’s going to make the film even better. Maybe we start the movie with someone in the future finding a buried cell phone. They plug it in and this is what they see: the destruction of the human race.”
“I don’t know, Coop.”
“You don’t have to know. Because I know. You just make sure that Leyna is still on board. And then leave everything else to me.”
We hang up, and while I should know better by now — boy, should I know better! — Coop’s enthusiasm and conviction have started to infect me. Or maybe it’s the thought of getting to tell Leyna that the film’s still on, that she’s still my leading lady.
Or possibly it’s just the sleep deprivation.
Whatever the cause, I stroll up to Leyna’s house — a cute yellow-and-white two-story that looks like it should be on a TV show — with a big grin on my face. Give a light rat-a-tat-tat on the front door, and a few moments later, a tall hollow-cheeked woman with long bleached-blond hair — Leyna forty years from now? — is standing in the entryway.
“You must be Shane,” the woman says, extending her bony hand.
“Sean,” I correct her as we awkwardly shake. Weird that her mom would be home. I’d think we’d need some privacy for the unveiling.
“Of course. Sorry. I’m terrible with names. Forgive me. I’m Claudia.”
“Hi,” I say.
Claudia steps to one side. “Leyna will be right down.”
I enter the house, which smells vaguely of lemons and is as picture-perfect inside as out. I’m shown to a formal room — with uninviting ornate floral couches and armchairs — and am told to make myself comfortable.
I glance around at the museum-ness of it all and think that it isn’t exactly the living room of a girl who wants to show you her “little muffin.” But then I guess growing up in such an uptight environment might make you want to be a bit more wild and free.
I stroll over to the window and stare outside at the well-manicured bushes just starting to regain their leaves. I need to think about what I’m going to say when she shows it to me. I have to be easygoing about it. Happy and grateful but not overly enthusiastic. I don’t want to come across as some noob who’s never seen a naked girl up close and personal.
Even though it’s true.
Yes, I saw Ms. Luntz on the nude beach last year. But I don’t count that. A grossed-out chill rockets up my spine as the image escapes its lockbox. Besides, while that may have been in person, it was hardly up close, thank Gandalf.
I pace around the living room, being careful not to bump into anything. Shake my arms out, roll my head around my neck like I’m about to do the fifty-yard dash.
Have to stay chill, Sean. Be all casual when she shows you. Just observe, and smile, and say something like, “Yes, that’s lovely. One of the prettiest I’ve seen. Quite impressive.”
Quite impressive? What are you, an art critic? Jesus.
I crane my neck to see if Leyna’s coming down the hall.
Okay. Deep breath.
Claudia told me to make myself comfortable and so that is what I will do. I sit down on the fancy couch facing the window and casually cross my right foot over my left leg. I toss an arm up over the back, glance over to the seat next to me, wink and point, and say, “Hey, there. Nice vagina. Thanks for showing it to me.”
Oh, come on, Sean. You can do better than that. I hunch over, press my palms into my eyes. Think, man. Think. How would Captain Kirk respond to seeing a woman’s Mystical Coif of Elements?
“I’m not going to . . . lie to you, Leyna. . . . Your genitalia . . . is ravishing. . . . Perhaps the . . . most exquisite specimen in the known universe. . . . Of all the females in all the races that I have had the . . . privilege . . . of encountering . . . your Omega Nebula . . . is unrivaled.”
“Who are you talking to, Sean?”
Oh, crud. It’s Leyna.
I pull my hands from my eyes and look up to see her backlit form standing over me.
“I was, um”— I swallow —“just going over some dialogue. For a new scene. That I wrote. Just now. In my head.”
“Oh,” Leyna says doubtfully. “But I thought the movie was dead.”
“Oh, my God, no . . . That’s . . . what I was going to tell you . . . now . . . Coop just had this great idea for filming the movie. On our cell phones. I know it sounds crazy, but we think it might actually work. Anyway, I was hoping . . . uh . . . I mean, if you’re not doing any other movies at the moment”— I laugh way too loud at my own lame joke —“if you’re free, maybe you could go back to being Nashira?”
“Are you kidding? I’d love to!” she says, sitting next to me on the couch and putting her hand on my leg. “I’m so glad to hear you haven’t given up on your dreams.”
“No, no, still got those dreams,” I say.
“Well, I want to talk all about it. But first, the reason I asked you over.” She gives my knee a squeeze. My leg jumps like it’s been stun-gunned. “Would you like something to drink first?”
My mouth is pretty parched, but I shake my head. “Nah. I’m good. Thanks.”
“Okay, then.” Leyna slaps her knees. “Should we get right to it? I mean, I don’t want to rush things, but I have been waiting quite a while for you to have a peek at this.” She laughs. “Time to put your doctor’s hat on.”
I gulp. “Uh . . . I . . .” My eyes dart around, all my grand plans gone up in smoke. “Where do you want to . . . ?”
“My room, don’t you think? It’s quieter and more private. That way you can take your time and get a good look.”
“Sure.” My voice is all shaky. My head dizzy with excitement. “Sounds good.”
“My little Muff-Muff’s looking pretty cute.” She smiles proudly. “I spent the last hour doing some primping and trimming.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Got her all gussied up for your visit. I even clipped on a little pink bow.” Leyna laughs. “I know, cheesy, right?”
“No,” I say. “It’s nice.” My jeans feel like they’ve shrunk two sizes. Lord Vader, I can’t believe this is about to happen. Just stay chill. Just stay chill. Forget Captain Kirk. Think Han Solo all the way. I cock my head, try on a bit of swagger, and say, “All righty, then. Let’s see this little muffin of yours.”
Just then a tiny brown-and-white corgi with a pink bow in its hair trots into the room.
“She must have heard you.” Leyna pats her leg. “Up, Muffin.”
The dog leaps into Leyna’s lap and starts to pant.
“Muffin?” My stomach plunges. “Your dog’s name . . . is Muffin?”
“Muffin, Muff-Muff, Muffy. And all the variations of.” Leyna giggles. “Sometimes my brother calls her the Muffinator.” She laughs and scrubs at the dog’s neck.
“And the picture you sent me?” I point at Muffin. “Was that of her?”
“Well. Of her butt.” Leyna turns the dog around and lifts her tail stump. “The rash I was telling you about. Way back when. Remember? It seems to get better for a while and then just comes back again. See?”
I blink hard, my entire fantasy world melting away. The dog looks back at me over its shoulder. “Yeah. I see.”
Leyna furrows her brow. “Why, what did you think the picture was?”
“Nothing.” I turn away. “I just . . . I didn’t know what . . . part of her it was. That’s all.” Oh, my God. I feel nauseous. “It’s probably mites.” I gesture at the dog, unable to look it in the eyes. “The rash. You were right. You should take her to a vet. She can prescribe some ointment. It’ll be gone in a week.”
A rash. A rash on
a dog’s butt. Son of a Sith.
“So that’s all this ever was?” I attempt to clarify. “You just wanted my . . . veterinary expertise?”
“I hope you don’t mind,” Leyna says, a small shy smile dimpling her cheeks. “You just seem to know so much about animals, and I was really worried about little Muffy here.”
“No, yeah, of course,” I say, shaking the disappointment from my head. “I definitely don’t mind. It’s just that . . . I guess what I mean is . . . I’ve been thinking . . . about you and me, right? . . . And how we have such a strong connection and everything. In drama class. And when we talk and stuff . . .”
“Yeah.” She smiles and gives my knee another squeeze. “It’s great, huh?”
“For sure.” I nod. “Really great. Which is why . . . I — I thought maybe . . . when you texted me . . . on Valentine’s Day . . .” My face flames as I see the words in front of me, just waiting to be blurted out. All ready to make a bad situation infinitely more awkward. But my brain’s right. I need to grow some balls. So it’s either say what I want to say or skulk off with my tail between my legs. Yet again. “I thought maybe you might want to go out? With me? You and me? Going out.”
Leyna smiles again, but this time it seems kind of forced. Like acting. Bad acting. “You mean, like, out to coffee?”
“Uhh.” I gulp. She’s gonna make me say it. “No . . . Not like that. Like, you know, something . . . more than coffee.”
“Like coffee and a donut?” she says. Is it just me, or is that a hint of hopefulness I detect in her voice?
“No, I mean, like going out. Like, dating.”
“Oh, Sean.” She leans away. Not a good sign. “I’m really confused. I thought . . . God, this is . . . I mean . . . I thought . . . I thought you were . . . gay.”
I jerk backward like she’s just smacked me in the face with a sock full of oranges. “What? Why would you . . . Did my sister tell you that?”
“You have a sister?”
“A twin sister. Cathy. Yes. She thinks I’m gay too.” Every muscle in my body has tensed.
“Yeah, well, aren’t you?” Leyna asks. “I mean, you’re sweet. You’re sensitive. You’re in drama. I don’t know. You seem gay. I guess I just sort of . . . assumed.”
“Well, you assumed wrong. Way wrong. Like . . . completely wrong. I’m not gay. I mean, I’m a guy and I can barely tolerate being around myself. I like girls. A lot. I like you. A lot. Okay?”
“Yeah. No. I get it.” She cocks her head. “I like you a lot too. But . . .” And there it is. The but we’ve both been waiting for. “Just . . . not in that way. I’m really sorry, Sean, I didn’t mean —”
“Sorry? Why would you be sorry? There’s no need for that . . . for you to be sorry. It’s not —” I give a loud lip fart. “Sorry. I mean, what’s that about?”
Leyna laughs nervously. “So you’re not . . . You’re not upset?”
“What? Upset? No, definitely not. I knew it was a long shot. I mean, we’re nothing alike, really, when you think about it. You want to be an actor and I . . .” told her I wanted to be an actor too. “Uh, I have to focus on my screenwriting, you know? It’s just . . . not a good time. For me, I mean. But thanks anyway.”
Jeez Louise, did I just thank her? Like she was the one asking me out? Time to abort this mission, Seanie boy. Way past time. I hoist myself to my feet.
“Well, I’m glad I could help with . . . uh . . . Muffin,” I say, gesturing at the dog, still not able to comfortably look at it. “Enjoy the rest of your Saturday. And, uh, I guess I’ll be in touch soon . . . about the movie? If you’re still in, I mean?”
“Yeah, for sure. Listen, Sean, I really am so —”
“No, no. No need for that. I’ll just . . . let myself out. I remember the way.” I laugh loudly, pointing at the front door, which is about ten feet from the couch. “See you . . . See you Monday. Bye, Muffin.”
“Bye, Sean.”
I book it out of there, my face and ears red-hot. Good God, I don’t know what’s worse: the fact that I’ve just been totally blown off by Leyna, the fact that she thought I was gay, or the fact that the only thing that has given me comfort lately turns out to be a picture of a little dog’s anus.
As I hop on my bike and pedal like mad for home, I try to think of what the hell I can tell the guys — other than the truth, obviously. Because even though I know they’d both take a bullet for me if asked, there’s no way they’re ever going to let me live this one down.
“WAIT A SECOND,” COOP SAYS as we ride our bikes to school on Monday. “I don’t get something. If Leyna thought you were gay”— he nearly chokes with laughter just saying it, just like he’s done the last three hundred times he’s said it —“then why would she send you a picture of her hobgoblin?”
“Because she didn’t, nosebag.” I sigh. I spent most of Sunday coming up with cover stories, each one getting more and more elaborate and dramatic until I was the one turning Leyna down, telling her that she obviously had some deep-seated issues regarding her self-respect and that I was too much of a gentleman to take advantage of that fact. But I’ve never been very good at lying. And especially not to my friends.
And so I finally decide it’ll be less painful in the long run if I just get this over with now.
“It wasn’t her . . . hobgoblin,” I repeat. “Muffin is the name of her dog. It was a shot of Muffin the dog, of its rash. Leyna wanted me to diagnose it.” No need to mention where the rash was, exactly.
“Seriously?” Coop looks mystified. “I could have sworn it was a shot of her gravy boat.”
“So”— Matt raises his eyebrows at Coop —“obviously you don’t know the female anatomy as well as you thought.”
“Please,” Coop says. “It’s an honest mistake. Anyone could make it. Are you sure it was the dog, dude?” Coop asks me. “I mean, I’ve seen dogs before. Lots of times. And none of them ever looked like —”
“It was definitely the dog,” I assure him, starting to sweat. “I mean, I saw the rash in person when I got there. Trust me, it was the dog.”
“I believe you, Sean-o. I mean, why would you tell us it was a picture of a dog’s rash if it was actually Leyna’s love gully? Still, I find it hard to believe. It totally looked like a —”
“It was the anus, okay?” I blurt. “The rash was on Muffin’s anus. Happy now?”
Coop and Matt both skid to a halt.
Look at each other.
And then kill themselves laughing.
“Oh, no,” Coop splutters. “Oh, Seanster, no. You can’t be serious? That is odious, dude.”
“Man, Sean, that’s . . . wow.” Matt’s trying his best to control his laughter and sound sympathetic, but he’s failing. Big-time.
Coop is still bent over with laughter. But suddenly he straightens. “Shit, dude. Tell me you didn’t . . . Oh, Sean-o, please tell me you didn’t scratch Yoda behind the ears looking at that picture?” He holds his breath waiting for my response.
“Pfff, right.” I look off into the distance. “I was never convinced in the first place.”
“Oh, my God.” Coop turns to Matt. “Our best bud mangled his midget gawking at a shot of a dog’s anus. That is absolutely grievous!”
He leans over and fist-bumps Matt as they double over with laughter again.
“Okay, okay, wait,” Matt says, trying to catch his breath. “Is Muffin a boy or a girl?”
I glare at him. “Are you done?” I hop up on my bike seat and start pedaling.
The guys follow.
“That’s a good question you pose there, Mattie,” Coop sputters. “Because if it was a girl dog, well, that’s bad enough. But if he used a shot of a guy dog —”
“She’s a girl,” I snap. “And it doesn’t matter because I didn’t ‘use’ that picture for anything, okay?”
The guys are still going on about it as we turn into the school parking lot and coast our bikes up to the racks. I jump off and start locking up my front wheel.
The sun is glaring in the sky this morning. So much so that it hurts my eyes. It’s like someone removed a layer of the atmosphere or something.
“Don’t worry, Sean-o.” Coop snorts. “Your dirty little secret’s safe with us.”
“Right, whatever. You guys can get your jollies thinking whatever twisted things you want.” My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and read the text from Leyna. “Perfect. Things just keep getting better and better.”
“What’s up?” Matt asks, clicking his bike lock shut.
“Leyna just quit the movie.” I wave my phone at them. “She just texted.”
“Did she send along another shot of her dog’s sphinc?” Coop asks.
“No.” I sigh. “She just said she’s ‘thought it over’ and she’s ‘uncomfortable working with me’ now that she knows I like her.”
Coop raises his eyebrows. “Think how uncomfortable she’d be if she knew what you were doing with that picture of her dog’s butthole.”
I flip Coop the bird, then say, “Well, that’s it. It’s really over now.”
“What’s over?” Helen asks, strolling up with Val.
“Our movie.” I stare off at all the trees and flowers that are blooming. Green, yellow, red, blue. Bright colors everywhere. Mocking me and my miserable life.
“I thought we decided to shoot it on our cell phones,” Valerie says.
“We did,” Matt explains. “But now Leyna’s just dropped out.”
“Which is terribly unfortunate.” Coop reaches into his backpack and pulls out a Three Musketeers bar. “But here’s the silver lining. I no longer have to worry about how I’m going to look on the cover of Entertainment Weekly.” He unwraps the candy bar and takes a big bite. “Oh, you sweet nougaty goodness, how I missed ye.”
“It doesn’t have to be over,” Helen says. “I could do it. Play Nashira, I mean.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Coop gestures with his candy. “I’m not about to have you spending all that QT with Hunter. No way, no how.”
