Denton Little's Deathdate

by Lance Rubin

  Paolo’s mom takes a deep breath. “Well, we all know that Veronica and Paolo’s father left me a long time ago, before I met any of you. And being a single mom got lonely at times…. Oh, this feels so silly…. But when I first met Lyle, I…”

  “Oh,” my stepmom says.

  “I had a tiny crush, that’s all.” Paolo’s mom looks down and covers her eyes.

  There’s a silence as we all process what she’s just said.

  “Wait, on my dad?” I say.

  She nods.

  My dad is confused and blushing.

  “Ah, I must seem pathetic,” Paolo’s mom says.

  “Pretty much,” Paolo says.

  “It was only for a few years—”

  “Years?” my stepmom says.

  “But I just left the photos in my photo drawer. As a reminder. Of…what one day I could maybe find with someone. You’re so lucky, Raquel.”

  Lucky to be with my dad? Has she ever tried to carry on a conversation with him?

  “Well,” my stepmom says, looking supremely uncomfortable. “Thank you. But, Cynthia…you didn’t even meet Denton until the boys were in kindergarten.”

  A seed of something sprouts in my mind.

  “Right, no, obviously,” Paolo’s mom says. “So, those baby photos…”

  “Oh no,” Paolo says.

  “Denton, do you remember in elementary school when you and Paolo worked on that family history photo project?”

  Paolo’s mom had a crush on my dad.

  “Uh-huh,” I say, only half listening.

  “Well, when you guys were over, I…I made copies of some of the photos that had you and Lyle in them.” Paolo’s mom looks lost. “I’m not proud, I don’t know what I was thinking. Please forgive me, Raquel. Lyle, too.”

  “Excuse me,” Veronica says as she weaves through the people in the bedroom and walks out the door.

  If my mom were a stalker, I’d be uncomfortable, too.

  “Ron, wait,” Paolo’s mom says. She seems like the loneliest lady in the world.

  But hold on a second: those photos weren’t just of my dad. They were photos of me, too. In fact, the first photo I saw featured me by myself.

  Not to mention that Paolo’s mom has been taking photos of me—with or without my dad—the whole time she’s known me. I can even remember one of my soccer games in third or fourth grade: I was waiting around on defense, daydreaming, when I noticed Paolo’s mom and her camera way behind the sideline. I thought it was strange because Paolo wasn’t on either team. I was about to wave at her, but then the ball soared past me, and the coach shouted, “Wake up, Little!” I sprang into my pretending-to-play-defense stance, and when I looked again later, she was gone.

  Paolo’s mom once had a thing for my dad. She’s been taking photos of me since I was a kid. I know close to nothing about my biological mom, whose name may or may not be Cheryl.

  Ohmigod. What if…what if Paolo’s mom is my mom?

  I stand up out of bed.

  “I, uh, I’m gonna go pee,” I say.

  “I’m truly sorry,” Paolo’s mom says.

  “You’re aggravating him,” my stepmom says. “Just give it a rest.”

  “No,” I say. “It’s…”

  I have no idea how to finish that sentence.

  I pad out the door and down the hall.

  I stare into the bathroom mirror at my purple face.

  Paolo’s mom might also be my mom. No. It makes no sense. And yet it makes all too much sense.

  “Ever heard of knocking?”

  Veronica is sitting on the toilet.

  I pretty much jump out of my skin.

  “Ohmigod​youscared​thecrapout​tame,” I say. “I’m so sorry, I’ll go.”

  “I’m not taking a dump or anything. You’ll notice I’m fully clothed.”

  “Oh good.”

  We’re quiet for a moment.

  I want to share my theory with her, but then I realize:

  If it’s true, then I had sex with my half sister. Oh holy crap. I push it out of my mind. I focus on Veronica. She’s wearing jeans and a dark green turtleneck sweater.

  “A turtleneck in May?” I ask, trying to be cute.

  “No, dick, I’m not wearing this because it got cold.” She slides down the turtleneck part to show me her now-purple neck.

  “Oh,” I say, taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub.

  “Dent, how’s it going in there?” my stepmom says through the door. “You okay?”

  “Totally fine, Mom. Just need to take a few minutes.” I look at Veronica, and she has one hand over her mouth, like she’s about to start laughing.

  “Let’s just give him some time in there,” my stepmom says, away from the door.

  Veronica, meanwhile, is cracking up.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You said you’re ‘totally fine,’ ” she says through giggles. “Just seems kinda hilarious, considering you could die literally any minute. This day is so weird.”

  You can say that again, sis!

  Her laughing triggers memories of the creepy Veronica from my dream, and I’m momentarily unsettled.

  “Yeah, it kinda is.”

  “Kinda? I’m on the toilet having a chat with you, Denton. And we’re both purple.” She says that last word in an emphatic way that makes me smile. “Not only that, but no one has any idea why we’re purple; my mom is telling your parents she’s crushing on your dad; you’re gonna die at any moment—”

  “I know,” I say, starting to laugh a little myself. “It’s like, What the HELL is happening? And Phil was here this morning with a gun! Trying to kill me. That actually happened!” I’ve never seen Veronica laugh this much. “And we had sex! You and me! We sexed it up!”

  She stops laughing.

  The silence hangs in the air between us, a stranded balloon.

  “Too soon?” I ask. Maybe she also figured out we’re related.

  “Yep.” She doesn’t seem mad, exactly. More annoyed. She stares past me, absentmindedly rubbing her index finger back and forth along her lip.

  I remind myself that I could die in a matter of minutes.

  “I gave you my virginity, you know? And it really sucks that I can’t remember a single. Freaking. Detail.”

  “You seriously don’t remember a single thing? You were that drunk?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Hey, speaking of which, did you throw up on my bed?”

  “Um…Oh, you know, I do remember one thing from that night: you telling me ‘It’s just because I feel bad for you’ before kissing me.”

  “Oh. Right. I did feel bad for you.” Veronica readjusts the way she’s sitting on the toilet. “This isn’t very comfortable.” She stands up and stretches, both arms lifting into the air. As she does, her sweater lifts and I get a peek of midriff. I know she might be my sister, but it’s still crazy attractive. Even if she is purple. She moves past me to the other side of the bathroom.

  “Wait, don’t leave,” I say.

  “I’m not,” she says.

  Oh. Good. The television is on downstairs, and I strain my ears to figure out what’s being watched. Some sort of daytime talk show.

  “I felt bad for you,” Veronica blurts out as she abruptly turns around, “because you manipulated me into feeling bad for you. You were all sad because Taryn had dumped you, milking it and milking it. And she hadn’t!”

  “Well…I was confused!”

  “And why were you even still at our house? My mom was supposed to drive you home!”

  “I have no idea!”

  “Huh.” Veronica narrows her eyes.

  “What do you think?” I say. “That I, like, told your mom not to drive me home so I could hook up with you?”

  “All I know is me and Pow said goodbye and you guys were heading to the car. Then five minutes later, I’m sitting on the couch watching TV, and you and my mom walk back into the room. She says you’ve decided to sleep over because yo
u’re so tired. And then you, like, sat down on the couch next to me and said you were ‘so bummed.’ ”

  “Okay, okay, back it up a second. Were you hanging out with me and Paolo before I left? Or, whatever, fake-left?”

  “Yeah, a little bit. You were making prank calls. It was pretty funny.”

  “Man, I wish I remembered doing that…. So during that time, Taryn was gone, right?”

  “Yeah, she left before I got there.”

  “Right, okay, so was I sad about being dumped then? Did I mention it at all?”

  Veronica bites on her thumb and looks at the ceiling. “Maybe not.”

  “Aha! Right? If I thought I’d been dumped, I would have been talking about it. So why did I think that later? Did Taryn text something as I walked to your mom’s car that I mistook for a dumping? Or call me?” I rip my phone out of my pocket and scroll through the history from two nights ago. Nothing.

  “So what, then? My mom randomly decided to convince you that Taryn had dumped you?”

  And with a shock of electricity, I remember something else from that night. Paolo’s mom stands on the front porch of Paolo’s house: “You sure you want me to drive you home? You’re very welcome to stay here, you know.”

  I tell her I’d like to go home but thanks.

  “Of course, sweetie. I just thought with Taryn having broken up with you like that, you might want to be around other people your own age.”

  I tell her that Taryn didn’t break up with me.

  “Oh no…I thought maybe you hadn’t understood that. That’s why she left early. She said it’s over, Denton.”

  I don’t remember what happened after that, but I remember the feelings. Heartbroken. Confused. Lost.

  “Yeah. I think maybe she did,” I say to Veronica.

  “’Cause that makes so much sense.”

  It’s certainly not outside the realm of Bizarre Crap Paolo’s Mom Has Been Doing in the Past Day. Though I’m not sure how this would relate to her being my mom. Maybe she isn’t. Right now I have to assume that. Because I’m too attracted to Veronica to think of her as my sister.

  Veronica looks in the mirror and brushes her hair back with her hand. “We should probably stop hiding in here. At least you should.”

  She walks toward the door.

  Don’t waste it, Denton.

  “Wait wait wait,” I say as I stand up from the bathtub.

  Veronica sighs and turns around.

  “Just…” I take the leap. “You’re a phenomenal person.”

  “Funny.”

  “I’m serious.”

  She looks down at her sneakers. “For what it’s worth, Dent, I think you’re pretty cool, too.”

  Dynamite explodes in my chest.

  “Really?” I say.

  “I guess, yeah.”

  “So, wait,” I say, encouraged by this tiny victory. “Can I just ask how it was? When we…I mean, was I awesome or what?”

  “Well, you made me purple. That wasn’t awesome.”

  “Again, can’t apologize enough about that.”

  “But, otherwise, it was fine. You were just…touching my boobs a lot.”

  “What? That sounds like a good thing to me.”

  “No, like, a lot a lot.”

  “Oh my God, okay, never mind.”

  “I mean, for your first time, it was pretty good,” Veronica says.

  “Geez. Thank you? I guess.”

  I try to slide by Veronica in the narrow space of the bathroom so I can leave—I’ve gotten bored of feeling inferior—but she puts her arms around me.

  “I really should get out there,” I say as I hug her back, feeling her body pressed against mine, my face in her hair, inhaling the same peachy, minty, soapy smell that I remember from her bed. I don’t actually want to leave. I would be fine to finish out my life right here.

  “I’m really gonna miss you,” Veronica says into my ear. A chill goes down my spine.

  Before my brain can even form the thought If not now, when? I’ve gone in for the kiss.

  Veronica kisses me back.

  Our tongues are full-on invading each other’s mouths, deep, hungry kisses. I know how potentially wrong this is, but I don’t care. This is happening.

  I slide my hands down her back and onto her butt. (Definitely not going for her chest.) She doesn’t remove them. I am invincible. Maybe I’ve died. Maybe this bathroom is heaven.

  There is a knock at the door. We freeze.

  “Dent, you still in there?” Paolo says. “We’re all trying to give you your space and alone time, but…Just making sure you’re okay.”

  Veronica’s mouth pulls away from mine, but our bodies and faces are still very close. I’m not sure if I should speak.

  “’Cause you’ve already had more than enough time to rub one out, if that’s what’s going on. I don’t know, you might take more time with it than I do.”

  “Oh, nasty,” Veronica whispers, more to herself than to me.

  “I could have probably jerked it twice by now, actually. Two and a half, if we’re gonna be real.”

  I should speak.

  “Hey, Pow, I’m all good. I’ll be out in a second.”

  “Hold up, hold up,” Paolo says. “Can I come in there?”

  Veronica slinks out of my arms and rolls her eyes as she crosses past me back to the toilet.

  “Uh…Just give me, like, two minutes, and then we can talk out there.”

  “No, dude, we can’t do it out here.”

  I look to Veronica like, Oh, Paolo, up to his zany tricks again.

  She shrugs like, Might as well let him in, because I know you’re going to either way.

  “All right, come on in,” I say, opening the door just enough for him to get inside. “But—”

  “What the hell is she doing in here?” Paolo says as I carefully close the door behind him. “Oh man, you guys were…Oh, barf-a-tron.” Paolo spins around, trying to shield his eyes.

  “No, it’s not like that,” I say.

  “Dude, this is hard-core. You guys are doing it in the bathroom? With everybody right outside?”

  “Shhhh!” Veronica and I say.

  “Pow. We were talking in here. That’s all. I really did come in here to pee, but she was in here already.”

  Paolo looks back and forth from me to Veronica to me, not fully trusting my story. “You guys did get dressed pretty quickly for two peeps who were bumping uglies.”

  “Ugh, stop talking,” Veronica says.

  Paolo sizes us up some more. “Look, you guys are both practically my siblings, so—”

  “I am your actual sibling,” Veronica says.

  I might be, too.

  “Right, yeah, I messed that up. You are my sibling, and Denton is practically my sibling, so I love you both like brothers. No. I’m the brother, and you guys…What I mean is, whether you guys were doin’ it up or not, I love you and I support this union.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “What did you need to talk about?”

  Paolo looks momentarily confused by my question, caught up as he is in his TV cop routine. “Oh right.” He turns on the sink and splashes water on his face. “This is kinda serious, and if you want me to be honest, I’m freaking out a little.” Paolo turns off the faucet and grabs a maroon towel off the rack.

  “Okay, sorry. FYI, that’s the towel I use to dry off my balls.”

  Paolo rips the towel off his face and throws it to the ground. “Aw, man! Geez!”

  Veronica laughs, which I like.

  “Dude, you can tell us.”

  “No, I can’t,” Paolo says, “because it’s not something I have to tell. It’s something I have to show.” He unbuckles his belt and begins to unzip his fly.

  “Whoa there,” I say.

  “P, stop!” Veronica hides her eyes.

  “You’re gonna think this is hilarious,” Paolo says. “You, too, V. A regular chuckle fest.”

  He pulls down his pants.

  On his ri
ght thigh, just below his Daffy Duck boxers, is the splotch.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I say.

  “You STDed me!”

  “Okay, hold on a sec here, hold on.” I’m trying to think, to get a handle on this, but my head is spinning.

  “You guys had sex?” Veronica asks. “Ohmigodohmigod.” She lifts the toilet seat up and kneels down in front of the bowl.

  “No! Of course we didn’t have sex!” I shout.

  “At least not that we know of…,” Paolo says.

  “What? Dude, can you get my back on this?”

  “Well, we don’t know what’s happening! We were both pretty wasted two nights ago!” Paolo says. “Though, Ron, you wanting to throw up at the thought of two dudes doing it is very un-PC. Get with the times, babe.”

  “I don’t care about two guys doing it,” Veronica says, hovering over the toilet. “It’s you guys doing it. It’s me and my brother doing the same guy on the same night.” She dry-heaves.

  Though I’m 99.99 percent sure it didn’t happen, I suddenly feel nauseated, too. “Move over,” I say as I crouch above the toilet next to Veronica.

  I am dry-heaving and taking deep breaths. What if I die right now? What if I start vomiting and can’t stop and I throw up all of my insides? It’s so sad, people will say. He pictured himself and his best friend doing it and got a case of Unstoppable Vomit.

  I look at Paolo’s splotch. “You have no red dots on yours, right?”

  “Nah,” he says. “I wish I had those; they’re sick.”

  We watch him poke at his splotchy thigh.

  “You can probably pull your pants up now, dude,” I say.

  “Now that they’re down, it’s kinda freeing.”

  “Pull up your goddamn pants!” Veronica says.

  “Geez, what’s up your butt?” Paolo says, shuffling his jeans back up.

  “Veronica’s got it, too,” I say.

  “What? The Purple Plague?”

  “Let’s not call it a plague.”

  “Wow,” Paolo says, ignoring me. “Well, of course she does, because you guys did it. A lot. I bet she’s got it all over.”

  “We only did it that one time,” I say.

  “When you caught us in the woods, I was looking at Denton’s rash thing. Not giving him a beejer, dumb ass,” Veronica says.

  “Whatever,” he says, picking up a white container of spearmint floss. “Can I use this?”