I put down the sandwich I was about to eat.
“It’s just cold outside,” Theo says quickly. Probably too quickly.
Evita looks between us. I put a hand on my cheek. It’s burning, still warm from where Theo’s stubble rubbed against me. I move my fingers to my lips.
“Oh my god!” Evita says, her eyes widening. “You guys were … kissing? Is that a rash from kissing? Is that why you’re upset about Amherst?” she yells at Theo.
Janice comes up behind Evita and lays a hand on her shoulder, but Evita shrugs it off.
“What’s going on with you two? Tell me!” Evita yells.
“Evita. It’s sort of…” Theo looks at me and shrugs. “We were going to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” Evita’s eyes burn right into mine.
“Evita, I’m sorry,” I say. “I really like him.”
“Apparently,” she says. She shoves her plate away from her. “This is bullshit. I tell you everything.” She stands up from the table.
“I know,” I say.
“Evita. We didn’t want you to be hurt,” Theo says.
She scoffs and starts pacing. “We? You’re, like, totally an ‘us’ and I’m not part of that. That’s fucking awful.”
“What? No!” I say. “This doesn’t change anything.”
“You and I both know that’s bullshit,” she spits. “I was just about to tell you that I have your back. That I support you and your college decision and that I don’t mind getting suspended. I have your back. And you clearly don’t have mine.”
“Come on, Evita,” Theo says. “That is not true.”
She points at me. “I told you everything!” She grabs her backpack and starts for the front door. “Mom. We’re leaving. I’ll meet you in the car.”
She stomps out the front door, slamming it behind her.
“Should we talk to her? Or maybe I should?” I ask him.
“I think you should let her cool down first. She’ll probably be ready to talk soon,” he says.
“Janice…,” I say, watching her grab her coat. “I’m so sorry.” She waves us off, but I can tell this is a shock to her, too.
“I’ll see y’all a little later, okay?” She follows Evita out the door.
“This is bad,” I say. “This is awful.”
“Well. I don’t think it was ever going to go that well. To be honest,” Theo says.
He doesn’t know the half of it. And he can’t know. Evita told me she still loves him romantically. And if it wasn’t clear before that our being together would be like a knife in the back, it certainly is now. I can’t tell him this, but we just broke Evita’s heart. And hers is the last heart I’d ever want to break.
“Listen. She’s our best friend. She’ll come around. She’s just going to be angry for a while first,” Theo says.
My mom comes down the stairs. “Is everything okay?” she asks. “I was on the phone. But there was yelling. Where’s Evita?”
“She and Janice left. Sort of dropped a bomb on her,” I say.
My mom presses her lips together. “That was probably hard for her.”
“Dropping a lot of bombs all over the place,” Theo says quietly.
“Seriously?” I turn to him. “Are you just trying to make me feel worse?”
“I just mean that we didn’t tell Evita yet. But you also didn’t tell me about the college thing.” He shrugs.
“There isn’t actually anything to tell there! I wasn’t keeping anything from you!” I say. “Can we maybe table the whole you-being-upset thing? I’ve disappointed enough people today!”
“Sorry,” Theo says.
“Honey, he’s allowed to feel how he feels,” my mom says.
“Mom!” I yell. “I really don’t want to talk about any of this right now!”
They both look shocked. I never yell. Never snap. But all of this is too much.
“Do you want me to stay? Should I go?” Theo asks.
“Maybe. I kind of want to be alone,” I tell him.
He looks so dejected. Even that makes me bristle. It isn’t like I was trying to hurt anyone. Both he and Evita always assumed I would do what they wanted. And it sucks realizing that I am potentially letting them both down. But I also have a right to make my own decisions.
“I’ll drive you home, sweetheart,” my mom says to Theo.
“Lacey?” Theo says. I can tell he wishes I would ask him to stay.
“I’ll call you. Okay? I need a minute to feel bad about all of this.” He looks so upset, I feel a little guilty for snapping. I offer him a hug. “Just, tell me if Evita talks to you?” I ask.
He nods.
“I’ll be back soon,” Mom says.
* * *
Once Dylan is up and changed, I sit on the living room floor with him, handing him blocks to drool on. Charlie’s at the sink doing dishes. He doesn’t try to talk to me, which is nice. It’s calm in here. At least it is until Mom blows in the door.
“You all right?” Mom asks me the moment she’s in the door. She throws her coat on the coatrack and sits next to me on the floor.
“Sorry I yelled,” I say.
She shakes her head at me. “Are you kidding? That was a totally appropriate reaction.”
“Evita probably hates us. And Theo was pretty upset about the college thing. And, honestly, that just sort of pisses me off. I get where he’s coming from, but, like, I’m not making any choices just so I don’t hurt his feelings. At first, I was just applying to Amherst as, like, a distant possibility. But I actually think I might want to go there, and it’s scary. It changes all of our plans. And the band. I’m totally Yoko-ing this whole situation,” I say.
“I actually think that blaming Yoko for the breakup of the Beatles was sort of misogynistic. It’s problematic to blame her for being an influence on John’s life, casting the woman as a villain automatically.”
“Maybe this isn’t the time to be analyzing Yoko Ono and misogyny,” Charlie says from his spot at the sink.
“I just need to figure out what I’m going to say to Evita to make this okay,” I say.
“Honey, maybe there isn’t some magical ‘right thing’ you can say to Evita, you know?” my mom says. “Maybe you both need to figure how to be okay with this and still support each other. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but I bet you can do it. I think it’s time to start being totally honest with her.”
I nod sadly. My mom wants to say more. I can pretty much say exactly what she would tell me about sisterhood and the importance of supporting women in their choices and viewing them as just as capable and complex as men. I can already hear her saying that society has conditioned us all to sow seeds of discord between women, and that I need to be an unfaltering ally to all women and so on. I wait for her to launch into it.
Instead she says, “I’m fixing us tea.”
I give Dylan a kiss and head downstairs to flip through the channels on the TV. When my mom brings the tea down, I turn it off.
“You’re not going to lecture me on sisterhood and honesty?” I ask her.
“No. I’m not. Those things are great in theory. And we should always aim for them. We should always aim to lift each other up and not put each other down. But maybe you thought you were sparing her. Maybe you were trying to protect her.”
“I don’t think it was as noble as that. Part of me wanted things with Theo to be just for Theo and me. At least for a little while. I didn’t know how we’d all adjust. I didn’t know how to be his girlfriend and how to make it okay with everyone.”
My mom reaches over and puts a hand on my shoulder. “You can’t always make things okay for everybody. No one can. Do you know that I was scared out of my mind for you to meet Charlie?”
“Really? You were so cool about it, though. You were just like, ‘Hey, I’ve been spending a lot of time with this guy and I’d like you two to get to know each other.’”
She laughs. “Maybe I seemed cool, but, oh my gosh, Lacey, I was s
o scared. Charlie was, too, but he just wanted you to like him—I don’t think he ever doubted for a second that we’d work things out, no matter how you two got along. I knew differently, though. I knew that I would give up absolutely everything if I thought it was best for you.”
“I guess it’s good that I liked him.”
“You can say that again. But I think I know how you’re feeling. You’re in a space where everything is up in the air and you have stronger hopes and wishes than you’ve ever had, but things are also out of your hands. It’s scary.”
I nod, my eyes prickling.
“Oh, sweetie.” She leans over and hugs me. “You are a beautiful, thoughtful, strong young woman. You wouldn’t hurt anyone unnecessarily, ever. It’s just not in your nature. So, I know it must be extra hard to know you’ve caused pain. That doesn’t mean you don’t get to feel your own pain, though.”
“Mom. Stop. Seriously. It’s like you’re trying to make me cry.” I sniff, wipe my nose on my sleeve, and take a sip of my tea.
“My last word on the subject: don’t be afraid or feel guilty if you’re happy during this. When I was pregnant with you, I spent so much time being scared out of my mind. I used to feel so guilty feeling joy. I remember laughing out loud when you started really moving in there. It tickled. It was a ridiculous, bizarre feeling, and it made me so deliriously happy. As soon as the laugh escaped, I felt awful. Like I should only be serious and anxious and unhappy about being pregnant at sixteen. I wish I could have just laughed. That memory will always be as sad as it is happy. But it’s still happy. You can enjoy being in love.”
I nod. In love. It sounds so huge. Maybe it is. Because my feelings for Theo have exploded. From a crush, to infatuation, to discovering he’s this whole other person when we are together. In a way, the making out and the sex with him has been about meeting this new person. I’m noticing all new things. I’m having to reconcile this sweet, naked, funny boy with the one I’ve known half my life.
I nod at my mom. She gets it. I am feeling happier and sadder today than I can ever remember feeling.
My mom puts her arm around me. “It’s a lot,” she says, leaning her head against mine. “You don’t need to have a baby to have your whole world change in a matter of weeks.”
She’s right. I didn’t think I’d be considering nursing school. But that’s not even the biggest change. Suddenly, sex isn’t an abstract thing. It’s not about discovering how my own body works, although that has happened, too; it’s about allowing myself to be vulnerable, to ask for the things I want. These past few weeks have been enormous, and I haven’t felt the weight of that until now.
“I love you, Mom.”
* * *
Before I completely collapse from exhaustion, I pull the Tumblr back up. There are notes of encouragement and a few more questions in the inbox. Almost all of them are anonymous, but I see one from “HelloCello25” and click on it. There’s a picture of Theo, looking goofy with his tongue out and eyes rimmed in midnight- blue eyeliner, his hair spiked up and messy the way it is before he combs it. It’s perhaps the cutest Tumblr avatar I’ve ever seen. His comment: Locker 412 forever! Keep sticking it to the man!
I know what he’s doing. He probably wanted to call or text, but also wanted to give me space. I pull out my phone.
Your avi is the cutest thing ever.
Yeah?
I kind of want to see you. I feel bad that I got on your case about college.
I need a night to myself.
Fine. But I reserve the right to think of my girlfriend all night
Did you just refer to me as your girlfriend?
Uh … yes? Is that okay?
This is acceptable.
<3
He just texted me a heart. So I text him a kissy face back. Oh god, we are that couple. My eyes feel gritty from how exhausting today has been. I have every intention of falling asleep, but I keep checking my phone whenever I feel myself drifting off. I’m just waiting for Evita to tell me everything is okay. But she never does.
Twenty-nine
My alarm goes off, even though I don’t need to be at school today. I slept in my clothes and my teeth feel furry. Evita didn’t call or text me last night. The triumph of our suspension yesterday feels significantly less triumphant without Evita. I start feeling all this doubt. Doubt that I’ve made a difference. Doubt that I’ll make the right choice about college. Doubt that Evita will ever forgive me.
I slam the off button. I should have at least turned off the radio alarm, because the morning DJ is the worst. My throat is dry, and I’m hungry. If I go back to sleep now, I’ll probably sleep all day and fall deeper and deeper into self-pity.
I grab my phone to find a distraction. I open Instagram first. I mostly follow musicians and a few random people from school. Expecting to scroll through images of concerts and music equipment and general musician shenanigans, I’m surprised to see that I have notifications. And I rarely post.
I’ve been tagged in a picture. I tap on it, and it’s the worst picture of me ever taken. Posted by a kid I’ve never even heard of. It’s me, walking half a step behind Ms. George, flanked by Evita and Theo. I have a stupid look on my face and I’m slumped over. But someone added something to the picture. A superhero cape. I glance at the caption. The administration *tried* to bust up the condom project. Lacey, real American hero. #condomsforeveryone #locker412
I click on the tags. #locker412 is everywhere. So many kids have taken pictures with … condoms. A lot of them are kind of hilarious. There’s one of a condom being passed between two hands in a science classroom of our school, just like how you’d expect a note to be passed. There’s another of someone’s butt in tight jeans, condoms in each pocket. There’s more than one banana with the added tag #practicemakesperfect. I knew people were taking condoms. I knew word must have gotten out, but how had I missed all of this?
We’re clearly onto something. Just a few weeks ago, girls were embarrassed to even talk about condoms. Now so many of the same girls are posing for Instagram pics with them. It’s beyond awesome. I don’t care if I’m suspended; I have to find a way to keep this going.
I get out of bed and open my closet, where I now have boxes and boxes of condoms and “sexual paraphernalia,” as Ms. George called it. I dump the condoms on my floor. I throw some dental dams and pamphlets on the pile for good measure. I sit on the floor with all of them surrounding me. And I do the unthinkable: I take a selfie with them. Historically, I’ve thought selfies are inane. I never look good in them. I pose with an encouraging face and a thumbs-up. I write the caption We might have gotten suspended for #locker412 #condomsforeveryone but I am coming up with a plan. In the meantime: #besafe #sockitbeforeyourockit It occurs to me that Evita would probably be able to come up with amazing hashtags for this.
I look at the image. I have bedhead. My nose is red. It’s far from a cute picture, but I kind of love it. I hit post before I can think better of it. I could sit here and see if anyone likes it. Or I could go upstairs and try to forget about the fact that people from school might be looking at me and judging me.
I head upstairs. My mom is up and rushing around; she’s working today. She flits around the kitchen finding butter before her toast gets cold, pouring herself coffee. She almost drops her mug when she realizes I’m there, creeping in the doorway.
She rushes over and wraps me in a big hug that’s way too much this early in the morning. “Oh, bear, are you okay? I wanted to go and wake you up about a dozen times, but Charlie wouldn’t let me. He thought you needed space. But I wasn’t entirely sure that having your mother wasn’t better than having space. Or if maybe that’s what you needed even if you wanted to be alone. Like maybe we just need to talk things through more.”
“Mom. I’m okay. Seriously. I just need to talk to Evita. And figure out the college thing. Jesus. I feel like no matter what I decide, I’m going to disappoint someone.”
“Nothing would disappoint me. Well. Maybe
if you took up smoking. Or dropped out of high school. Okay, honestly, I’d be disappointed if you got pregnant. But, like, supportive-disappointed. Unlike if you started smoking. You don’t smoke, right?”
I shake my head and laugh.
“Well then. I want you to be happy. So, don’t give me a second thought. If that’s the only reason you applied to Amherst…”
“It was at first, honestly. But now … I’ve loved volunteering. It feels amazing to help people take charge of their health. But it also feels amazing to make music with my friends. I just need to make decisions, maybe. I have made so few in my life so far, you know?”
“Plenty of time for that. College is the first of many huge decisions in life.”
“Great,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“It is great. Think of all the possibilities.” My mom smiles. What she isn’t saying is way more possibilities than I had. That’s a heavy weight to carry. “In fact, I think you have a possibility walking up the front walk right now.”
“I do?” I assume it’s Theo, and I feel my heart rate pick up. But it isn’t Theo. It’s Evita. It’s Evita, and she doesn’t look mad.
She doesn’t even knock; she just comes right in the front door. “Oh good, I’m not waking you up,” she says. “I thought you might be sleeping in, since we don’t have school today. Thanks for that, by the way.”
“I don’t take all the credit. You were the one caught red-handed with condoms,” I say.
“Yes, but it was your rude and profane and lewd tirade that probably got us this little vacation.” Evita holds up a tray of coffees and a bag of baked goods. “I brought so many pastries.”
“I’ll leave you girls to it. I have to get ready for work. But I will take one of those.” My mom takes one of the offered pastries and then shoots me a meaningful glance behind Evita’s back.
“Let’s go to the family room,” I suggest. Evita puts the bag on the coffee table. She takes a muffin out, thinks better of it, and puts it back. I know she’s about to launch into a speech, and I just hope that her chipperness this morning means it will be gentle.
The Birds, the Bees, and You and Me Page 19