Getting It

by Alex Sanchez

  “Huh?” Carlos rubbed his eyes, feeling as though he were waking from a dream.

  “Come on!” Roxy stood up, tugging on his arm. “You’ve got to go. It’s almost midnight. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

  “Okay.” Carlos stumbled to his feet, oblivious to the tent in his pants—till Roxy burst into laughter, exclaiming, “Boys!”

  Carlos blushed, wishing he could hide beneath the couch, but Roxy was already hustling him across the room.

  At the door, he politely said, “Thanks,” like Sal had taught him.

  Roxy grinned, tracing a finger gently across his cheek, and told him, “You’re funny”

  Carlos hadn’t meant to be funny. As he practically soared toward home, bounding over curbs and leaping over fire hydrants, his entire body hummed with energy. This had been the best evening of his life.

  But as he glanced up toward the living room window of his apartment, he abruptly slammed to a halt. Why was the light on?

  Fearing the worst, he tiptoed up the staircase. As he fished out his keys, they fell from his trembling hands and jingled to the floor.

  Carlos stooped to retrieve them. The front door opened. A pair of pink slippers appeared. Carlos gazed up. Above him towered his ma, her arms crossed, her dark eyes blazing. “Where were you?”

  “Um …” Carlos gathered himself up. He once again stood much taller than his ma, and slinked past her and Raúl into the living room, wondering what excuse he could give. “I left a note. Didn’t you see it?”

  His ma gave him a sharp look. “It said you were at Sal’s. But Sal phoned and said you weren’t with him.”

  Carlos glanced down at the carpet. Why had Sal phoned, tonight of all nights?

  “Tell me the truth!” his ma demanded. “You’re an hour past your curfew.”

  Carlos clutched the keys in his hand. “Um, I started to go to Sal’s, but then I went to another friend’s instead. That’s all.”

  “What friend?” his ma persisted.

  “Um … a new friend.”

  “Carlos, I want to know who your friends are. What’s his name?”

  Carlos balled his fist around the keys, shoving them into his pocket. “Um, it’s a girl.”

  “A girl?” His ma’s voice rose with surprise. “What were you doing with a girl?”

  Inside Carlos’s brain, Roxy’s boobs magically appeared. “Nothing. We weren’t doing anything.”

  “You were doing something,” his ma insisted, pushing the hair from her face.

  Her self-righteous tone ticked him off. “What do you think we were doing?”

  “Maybe,” Raúl intervened, “you two should talk this out tomorrow—when you’re both calmer?”

  Carlos and his ma both glared at him. Then she whirled back toward Carlos, stabbing her finger in the air. “You’d better not get any girl in trouble! You’re not a child anymore. Now go to your room!”

  You sound ridiculous, he thought. Maybe she thought so too, because she clutched her robe tightly around herself and marched into her own room.

  Raúl gave Carlos an odd, conspiring look and patted him on the shoulder. “You should get some sleep.”

  Carlos was left standing on his own, feeling strangely grown-up and a little nervous. Even though his ma had scolded him like a kid, she’d acknowledged he wasn’t one. Would he accidentally get Roxy in trouble?

  Inside his room, he peeled off his clothes, feeling slightly out of control: for lying to his ma, for sneaking off, for doing the stuff he’d done with Roxy. And yet, as he climbed into bed and recalled their kisses, warm feelings flowed over him again.

  He could hardly wait to tell his friends. Maybe now they’d shut up about his being gay. Except … what if Roxy found out he was blabbing about what they’d done?

  On the other hand, it had sounded like she talked with her cell-phone friend about what they did with boys. Besides, how could Carlos not tell his friends about tonight? He could barely stop himself from going to the window and shouting to the entire world: Roxy Rodriguez and I made out!

  Forty-One

  NEXT MORNING, CARLOS’S ma stared coldly at him, only thawing to say, “We’ll talk this evening.”

  Raúl usually headed to his job at dawn, but today he waited for Carlos to prepare his backpack and told him, “I’ll give you a ride to school.”

  Carlos sensed all this had to do with the events of the previous night.

  “So …” Raúl pulled the truck out of the driveway. “Did your dad ever talk to you about girls?”

  “Yeah,” Carlos mumbled, squirming to adjust his seat belt.

  “That’s good.” Raúl forced a tight-lipped smile. “So … he talked to you about condoms? About being careful not to get a girl pregnant?”

  Actually, even though his pa constantly asked Carlos about the girls, he’d never talked to him about that stuff. Perhaps someone should’ve talked to his pa about it; then maybe he wouldn’t have gotten Lupita pregnant. Carlos had mostly learned stuff from his friends.

  “I already know all that,” he grumbled to Raúl.

  “Well…” Raúl stopped for a red light. “I told your mom I’ll pick you up some condoms. She thinks you’re too young, but I told her you need to protect yourself. There are a lot of new diseases out there.”

  Carlos stared out the window at the road ahead.

  “Was the girl last night a girlfriend?” Raúl asked.

  Carlos shifted in the truck seat. Had last night made Roxy his girlfriend? “I’m not sure,” he told Raúl.

  “Well, just remember …” Raúl tapped Carlos’s head. “Think with your big head, not your little head.” He jutted his chin toward Carlos’s crotch. Carlos glanced away, embarrassed.

  All during morning classes, he could barely concentrate. His mind swirled with images of boobs, worries about his ma, and his muddle about Roxy. He looked for her between classes, but didn’t find her, and when he got to the lunchroom, she already sat chatting with her friends. Was she telling them about him?

  He took his usual lunch seat, hoping she’d glance over. But she seemed almost to be ignoring him. Was she mad at him?

  “Hey, how come you weren’t on the bus this morning?” Toro asked.

  “Huh? Um, I got a ride.”

  Playboy followed Carlos’s gaze to Roxy. “You still chasing that? Give it up. She’s too fine for a pendejo like you.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Suddenly, Carlos had to tell his friends. “Well, guess what, pendejo? She had me over last night.”

  Pulga put down his French fry. “Are you serious?”

  “To her house?” Toro set down his burger.

  Carlos nodded proudly. “Her mom wasn’t home.”

  The group eyed him skeptically. “How far did you get?” Playboy asked.

  Carlos shook his head. “That’s personal.”

  Playboy sneered. “I guess that means you got nada.”

  “False alarm!” Pulga picked up his French fry again.

  Carlos gritted his teeth, straining not to say more. But his buds’ smart-ass attitudes irritated him. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to offer them a little something. “We made out.”

  “You and Roxy?” Toro raised his Coke to toast him. “Way to go, dudeness.”

  “Wow.” Pulga nodded, impressed. “First base.”

  Carlos gave a modest shrug, although inside he felt elated. Finally, he’d gotten a little recognition.

  “What else?” Playboy prodded. “Did she let you feel her boobs?”

  Carlos clenched his jaw, determined not to be a blabbermouth. But the attention felt too good. “Um, yeah.”

  “Holy shit!” Pulga exclaimed.

  Even Playboy dropped his jaw. “How’d you get her to do that, man?”

  “I don’t know. She just asked me to.”

  “No wonder she’s ignoring you.” Playboy gave a smirk.

  Carlos sat up. “What do you mean?”

  “The hookup rules.” Playboy leaned back with an air of ha
ughtiness. “Instead of admitting you’re a slut, you pretend it didn’t happen.”

  “But it did happen.”

  “And if you want more,” Pulga said calmly “you’ll pretend it didn’t happen.”

  Carlos didn’t get it. “But what if we’re dating?”

  “Dude!” Playboy sighed patiently. “She had you over when her mom wasn’t home. That’s not a date. That’s a hookup.”

  “Besides …” Pulga nodded. “You want to date a girl who hooks up?”

  The question stumped Carlos. His secret fantasies were never this complicated.

  “At least wait till after you’ve had sex with her before you decide if you want to date her,” Playboy advised.

  Carlos shook his head, his thoughts a jumble. How could his friends be so detached about all this? He turned to Toro, who’d become surprisingly silent, as though he didn’t get it either. But hadn’t he had sex with a girl once?

  Compounding Carlos’s woes, after lunch he saw that the GSA posters from the day before had been torn down or defaced. One now read:

  NOT GAY IS ˆ OKAY! DON’T ˆ COME OUT FOR THE GSA

  While another read:

  SEXUALS TIRED OF HOMOPHOBIA? THEM HELP US FIGHT IT

  Carlos didn’t know whether to take the signs down or leave them. For the rest of the school day, he struggled to sort out his mixed-up thoughts about the last twenty-four hours. And it wasn’t over yet. He still had to face his ma.

  Forty-Two

  EVEN THOUGH ROXY had practically dissed Carlos at school, as soon as he got home, he raced to see if she was online. Upon spotting her name active on his buddy list, his fingers scurried across the keyboard. Hey, he IM-ed her. Sup?

  He held his breath, awaiting her response. As each second passed, he felt more frantic. What if she kept pretending nothing had happened between them—forever?

  To his relief, an IM from her popped up: Nothin. Sup with u?

  Carlos’s breath exploded from his lungs. He wanted to tell her everything that was up with him: about how pissed his ma had been last night; about how grown-up he’d felt to admit he’d been with a girl; about how Raúl had asked if she was his girlfriend; about how confused he felt by her ignoring him at school; about how his buds had tried to convince him his time with her had been just a hookup … And yet, he was unable to say any of that. He didn’t want to sound like a mixed-up kid. And what if she told him his friends were right: It had been only a hookup?

  Nothing much up here, he typed. Gotta do homework.

  He hit send and slouched down in his chair, feeling like a total wuss.

  Yeah, me too, Roxy replied. Homework sucks. L8terz.

  Laterz, Carlos typed back, and stared at the computer, wondering: Was he the only one in the world who felt all the sorts of stuff going on inside him?

  He picked up the phone and dialed Sal. “Hey, why’d you call me last night?”

  “Because you phoned me. My caller ID showed your call, so I phoned you back.”

  Carlos now remembered his attempted call. Feeling foolish, he slumped farther off his chair and onto the floor.

  “Your mom sounded really pissed,” Sal continued. “Where were you? What happened?”

  Carlos laid down on the carpet, phone pressed to his ear, and told Sal about Roxy inviting him over, about making out, and about her showing him her—

  “TMI!” Sal interrupted.

  Carlos grinned at the irony. The one person whom he felt comfortable telling everything to was a gay guy who complained it was too much information.

  “I can’t believe how fast it all happened.” Carlos stared at the framed praying mantis on the wall. “And at school she kind of ignored me. Why’d she do that?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it was fast for her, too.”

  Carlos pondered that but didn’t get it. If it was too fast for Roxy, why had she done it? “My friends say those are the rules.”

  “The rules for what?” Sal asked.

  “For hooking up.”

  “So, was Roxy a hookup?”

  “I don’t know.” Carlos was starting to feel mixed-up again. “What if that’s all she wants?”

  “Well, you’ve got to decide what you want. Have you told her you like her?”

  “No.” Carlos ran his fingers back and forth across the carpet weave, a little exasperated. “What if she doesn’t like me?”

  “Then you move on.”

  Carlos tugged at the carpet strands. “Maybe she’s afraid people will think she’s a hookup slut.”

  “Or maybe she is,” Sal suggested.

  Carlos sat up. “Hey I don’t like you talking about her like that.”

  “Oh, sorry.” Sal’s voice hinted sarcasm. “I forgot she’s your girlfriend—except she’s ignoring you.”

  Carlos gripped the phone tighter. “She’s not my girlfriend yet.”

  “Right.” Sal sighed. “I mean your hookup buddy—or what, exactly, is she?”

  “Just drop it!” Carlos snapped. It seemed clear that Sal didn’t like Roxy. He’d never liked her. So why had he continued to help Carlos even after Carlos couldn’t pay him anymore?

  “Dude …” Sal exhaled a long breath. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “I’m not going to get hurt,” Carlos mumbled.

  Sal remained quiet and Carlos stood up. “Can you come over again Saturday?”

  “Sorry, not this week. Javi and I are ushering at his cousin’s wedding. Anyway, I think your makeover is done.”

  Carlos didn’t feel done. He felt like he was still just starting. Why didn’t the Queer Eye show cover this part: What happened after the makeover?

  “Can we change topics?” Sal asked. “We set a date for the GSA meeting: next Wednesday after school. Okay?”

  “Yeah, fine,” Carlos grumbled, not really giving much thought to it. “Talk to you later.”

  He hung up and tried doing some homework, but his thoughts stayed too jumbled—not just because Sal had practically called Roxy a slut, but because he hadn’t helped Carlos figure out what to do, other than to tell Roxy he liked her.

  As if it was that simple, Carlos thought. His mood didn’t improve much when his ma got home. She continued giving him the silent treatment, until they sat down to dinner.

  “Did Raúl talk with you?” she asked, slicing her steak.

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you have any questions about what he said?”

  “No.”

  His ma stared across the table at him, her mean look softening a little. “Carlitos, I don’t want this to happen again. Understand?” Her tone became stern once more. “You still have the same curfew: school nights, home by eleven, weekends by twelve.”

  Carlos stared at his steak and potatoes, losing his appetite. “No one else has to be home that early. Playboy doesn’t even have a curfew.”

  “You’re not Playboy.” His ma laid down her fork. “You’re living in my house and you abide by my rules. If you go to a girl’s, I want to know about it.”

  “You’re being ridiculous,” Carlos muttered.

  “I don’t care,” his ma replied. “I don’t want any problems. And I don’t want you lying to me again. For the next two weeks you’re grounded.”

  Carlos slammed back in his chair. He was furious at his ma, even though he felt wrong for having lied.

  After dinner he went online and told his friends about being grounded. They all agreed it sucked big-time, which made Carlos feel better. Then he went to Hot-or-Snot to give Roxy her daily “10.” To his surprise, her rank had slipped a little. Meanwhile, Playboy had taken down his profile altogether, now that he’d found BadAssGirl.

  Carlos checked his own profile and saw his own rank slipping: down to an eight-point-three. He decided he’d better remove his profile too, before he joined Playboy as snot.

  Forty-Three

  ON THE BUS the following morning, Carlos and the guys listened to Playboy gripe about his hookup with BadAssGir
l: “She turned out to be a poser. Although she’d made it sound like she was into no-strings sex, afterward she got all clingy, asking if I had a girlfriend and not wanting to let me go. She really did turn into my worst nightmare.”

  “Maybe she likes you,” Toro suggested.

  Carlos felt sorry for the girl. It seemed obvious she liked Playboy.

  “That’s her problem.” Playboy gazed out the window. “I never told her I liked her.”

  Between classes at school, Carlos hoped to glimpse Roxy, though he no longer knew whether to wave hello or ignore her. It felt so weird to pretend as if nothing had happened between them. He now understood why Playboy only went out with girls from other schools.

  Later that day at lunch, Pulga made his own announcement: “Carlotta just told me that since I won’t date her, she’s going to find someone else. No more after-school specials.”

  “She dumped you?” Toro asked.

  Pulga frowned. “She didn’t dump me. I’m the one who said I didn’t want to date.”

  “Yeah,” Playboy argued, “but she’s the one who cut you off. Dude, you are so dumped.”

  Carlos wished he could offer Pulga some advice. But he was clueless enough with his own non-dating situation. So, he simply told Playboy, “Lay off him, man.”

  Forty-Four

  SATURDAY MORNING, CARLOS woke up early, even though Sal wasn’t coming over. As he cleansed, toned, and moisturized his face, he thought how much better he liked how he looked. Even his nose and ears no longer seemed freakishly huge. And when he ran some wax through his hair, he couldn’t imagine how he had put up with his unruly mop.

  After preparing a yogurt-and-granola breakfast, he cleaned up his room. And despite his annoying last phone conversation with Sal, Carlos nonetheless missed him.

  He imagined Sal and Javier wearing tuxedoes at the wedding, and was glad they’d found each other. They seemed really good and happy together. Why couldn’t Sal wish the same for Roxy and him?

  In the afternoon, Carlos did the laundry—both his ma’s and his. He had a lot more time to do things on weekends since no longer going to his pa’s. But sometimes he missed his pa—a lot. And he even missed Lupita and Henry a little. But he didn’t like to think about it too much. His life was confusing enough already.