Nine
The following Monday at school Patrick told me he was thinking about selling one of his guitars.
“Really?” I asked. “Wouldn’t you rather sell something less personal, like, a kidney?”
“Well,” he said, stuffing his face with mediocre, rectangular high school pizza, “A kidney would fetch me a lot more money, I suppose. However, I’m considering becoming an alcoholic later in life, so starting out with both kidneys would definitely give me an edge. And anyway, I’m not sure if I can put that on Craigslist.”
“What exactly is Craigslist, anyway?” I asked.
“You haven’t seen it? It’s like a big website of classified ads for, like, anything you can imagine. And they have it for different regions, so I can, like, go on to the North Jersey section and put my guitar for sale. And the best part is, it’s free.”
“Hmm. I’ll have to check it out. So, why are you selling your guitar, anyway?”
“Well, I kind of need the cash. My car needs some work and my crappy five hour paycheck from the grocery store isn’t gonna cut it if I want to get it fixed any time soon. You know how expensive that shit is.”
“Do you know what’s wrong with your car?” I asked, now stuffing my own face with mediocre rectangular high school pizza.
“Yeah, brakes and rotors.”
Even though I had scarfed down pizza at school, I made a sandwich when I got home and parked myself in front of the television for a while. Then I remembered Patrick telling me about Craigslist, so I decided to see what it was all about.
I found the website and clicked on North Jersey. Patrick was right. There was everything. Jobs, apartments, things for sale, personals, you name it. My curiosity got the better of me and I clicked on the personals for men seeking men.
I wasn’t expecting to see such a tacky list of ads, but that’s pretty much all there were. The biggest recurring theme, I noticed, was older guys wanting sex from younger guys. And they were disturbingly specific about what they wanted to do to each other. I noticed one heading from a guy in my town that was 18 years old so I had to look.
“Wanna Get Together?” was the heading. It went on to say how the guy wanted to hook up with someone immediately and get his backside “pummeled raw.” I cringed just reading it. When I saw the accompanying pictures of the guy who posted the ad, I couldn’t believe my eyes.
My phone rang. It was Patrick. “How much would you pay for a 1995 Gibson acoustic guitar?”
“Not much,” I replied. “Especially since I don’t know how to play one.”
“I have no idea how much to ask for. I mean, I want it to sell fast, but I don’t want to get, like, totally hosed either.”
“Well, I’m the wrong person to ask about that.”
He sighed. “I knew I should have taken that mechanic elective. Why does getting a car fixed always have to cost so much?” he asked.
I got an idea. Maybe a stupid idea, but an idea nonetheless. “Let me call you back in a few minutes, okay?” He said okay and I hung up the phone.
I scrolled through my contacts and found Ryan’s name, which I couldn’t bring myself to delete just yet. I tapped on his name and dialed before I allowed myself any more time to think it through.
“Hello?”
“Is this Ryan?” I asked, sounding stupid since I knew it was.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Hey, it’s Travis.” I said.
Long pause. Did he already delete my number? It didn’t seem like he knew it was me right away.
“Hey, how’s it going?” he asked, finally. Did I detect a note of cheeriness? It was too soon to tell.
“It’s going okay. You?”
“Not too bad,” he said.
The formality was getting painful so I decided to jump straight to the point.
“So, listen. A friend of mine needs some work done on his car, and he’s looking for a mechanic that won’t rip him off,” I said.
“Good luck with that,” he said, laughing. “No, seriously, what does he need?”
“Well, he said something about the brakes and rotors,” I said.
“Hmm. What kind of car does he have?” Ryan asked.
“Um, blue,” I said.
“Oh, great. I fix blue cars all the time. They’re easy,” he said. “Not as easy as green, but you make do.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, suppressing a laugh.
“Look, I have some time Thursday after school if he wants to bring it by the shop. I might not be able to finish it right then, depending on the parts he needs. And don’t worry, I’ll give him a break on the labor.”
“Okay, I’ll let him know. It’s just that I don’t know if he’ll be able to pay for it that soon.”“So he can pay me when he has the money. No big deal.”
“Really? Thanks, Ryan. I appreciate it,” I said, sounding a little sappy.
“Hey, no problem. Um, it was good to hear from you.” Really? Seriously? Good to hear from me?
“Yeah,” I said, which sounded idiotic the second it came out of my mouth. Why did I always have to be so damn awkward?
“Feel free to come by with him. It would be great to see you,” he added.
Great. The boy who I was totally disappointed with now wants me to hang out, just when I get to the point of mostly forgetting about him. Did I really want to see him again? Of course I did.
“I’ll see if I can make it,” I said. Slick, right?
“Cool.”
I called Patrick back and told him about Ryan agreeing to work on his car.
“That’s great. Thanks. But isn’t it going to be weird for you?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll see.”
“Hey, are you going to Karen Harney’s party on Saturday?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t think I’m invited.”
“Everyone is invited,” Patrick said. “And I’ve been really bored lately. I want to do something fun.”
“You think it’s going to be fun? That doesn’t sound like you.” Since when was going to a party full of the very people we made fun of on a daily basis a good time?
“We can drink for free and take pictures of everyone acting like idiots and use them for blackmailing purposes later,” he said.
“I’ll think about it,” I said, already making up my mind not to go.
I had been looking forward to seeing Ryan, but when Thursday finally came, I started getting nervous.
“Maybe you should just go by yourself,” I said to Patrick, as we were getting ready to drive over to Ryan’s shop from my house.
“It won’t be so bad,” Patrick said. “Besides, I’ll be there with you. That should make it a little less awkward, right?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“But you said you wanted to see him,” Patrick said.
“I know. I think it’s going to make me feel disappointed all over again, though.”
Patrick walked out the back door. “Well, I’m not going to make you go with me.” He started closing the door behind him.
“Hey, wait for me,” I said, rushing out behind him. The old parent/child ploy of “If you don’t come with me right now, I’m leaving without you” still works on me at 17 years old. Lame.
“It should be coming up on the right side,” I said, looking at the GPS on my phone. “There. Tanner & Sons.” I pointed to an old building on the left with brown letters painted on the front. A matching house sat adjacent to the side of the building, presumably where Ryan and his father lived.
Patrick pulled into the small gravel lot and parked in front of one of the garage doors.
“Are you still nervous?” he asked, before we got out of the car.
“Not as much,” I said, and for some inexplicable reason, I actually wasn’t.
We walked into the waiting room – slash – office, which was about the size of my bathroom. Immediately, the pungent smell of grease filled my lungs. Papers were strewn about everywhere. Outdated calendars were p
inned to the walls, which were wood paneling and at least twice as old as me. Everything was dirty. There was a bell on the counter with a hand written “ring for service” note taped down next to it. I rang it.
Ryan appeared in the doorway that led to the garage area, wearing light blue overalls, which were stained pretty much everywhere. He was wiping grease from his hands onto a rag and had a smile on his face. He was gorgeous even when he was filthy.
“Hey there,” he said, looking at me.
“Hey, Ryan.” I stood there for a second, almost forgetting what I was doing there. “This is my friend, Patrick,” I finally said.
“What’s up?” Patrick asked.
“So, you’re the one with the blue car,” Ryan said.
“Huh?”
“Never mind,” I said to Patrick.
Ryan pulled Patrick’s car into the garage and took off the tires and confirmed that the brakes and rotors needed to be replaced. He still had time to order the parts and have them delivered that afternoon and we made small talk until they came. When they arrived, Ryan went to work and Patrick and I chatted while we watched him.
“I really think we should go,” he said, referring again to Karen’s party.
“Can’t you go without me?” I asked.
“I need someone to talk to. You know Kate’s not going to come.”
During freshman year, Kate had a total brain seizure and decided she wanted to be a cheerleader. I think they only let her join out of desperation because Kate is about as cheery as a mortician. One day, she had a little argument with Karen, who was also a cheerleader, and when Karen was coming down from the top of the pyramid of big boobs and pompoms, Kate forgot to catch her. Allegedly. For some reason, they really didn’t hit it off after that.
“Look, if it’s awful, we don’t need to stay. But we’ll get free booze and food out of it,” Patrick said.
“Booze and food,” Ryan said from under his grease. “Don’t be a fool, Travis, go to the awful party.” I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or really was suggesting that I go based on those reasons.
It was almost 7:00 and Ryan was nearly finished. I wanted a few minutes to chat with him alone and it didn’t look like I was going to get it unless I told Patrick to get lost. I suggested that he should go for a walk.
“Oh, sure,” he said, “It’s 40 degrees and dark out and I’m in a place I’ve never been before. A walk is just what I was going to suggest.”
This was his way of disagreeing. “Look,” I said, “give me, like, five minutes, okay?”
Once Patrick was finally out the door, I sat on the floor next to Ryan and he stopped working to talk to me. I was trying to figure out what I wanted to say, but Ryan spoke up first.
“Hey, I feel bad about what happened that night at the park,” he said. “I got scared. But I really liked you. I still do,” he said, looking away, all cute-like.
“I still like you, too,” I said. “Look, maybe we don’t know where we’re going with this, but we could at least be friends and see how that goes,” I suggested.
“That’s kind of what I was thinking,” Ryan said.
“Time’s up!” Patrick announced as he came back in. “Everybody decent?”
“That was not five minutes,” I pointed out.
“Give me a break. I’m freezing my nuts off.”
“Well, maybe if you were wearing pants in December instead of shorts,” I pointed out.
“Yes, mom,” Patrick said to me.
When Patrick’s car was finished, he asked Ryan about the bill. Ryan said he’d write it up later and give it to me to give to Patrick.
“So, you don’t want any money right now?” Patrick asked, wallet in hand.
“Don’t worry about it now,” Ryan said.
“Okay, cool. Thanks, dude,” Patrick said.
“No problem,” Ryan replied and then turned his attention to me. “You wanna maybe do something Sunday?” he asked.
I said yes before I let myself think about it. We thanked Ryan again and I told him I would call him, and then Patrick and I got into his car and he pulled out to the end of the driveway.
“Cool, it stops,” he said. “Can you break up with him again before he gives me the bill?”
“We’re just hanging out as friends,” I said. “We’ll see how it goes.”
“He seems pretty chill. I can see why you like him,” Patrick said.
“Yeah,” I said, staring out the window.
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