Noticing us staring at him, Bert asked, “What?”
“That was poetic,” Perry whispered in awe.
“Fuck off.” Bert’s tone was mild, but he hid a smile. “Perry, you’d say that’s the truth, isn’t it?”
Perry nodded. “You just said it better than I ever could.” He turned to me. “When she gets off, she’s wet. When she’s wet, it feels cherry. When it feels cherry, it’s good for both of you.”
Bert’s lips twitched. “You’re a poet in your own way, you know.”
A corner of Perry’s mouth quirked up in response. “Don’t underestimate the middle brother.”
“We wouldn’t dare,” I said. Bert nodded in agreement.
“Tate, I think the problem with you is you’re too hesitant,” Perry said. “You always want to plan everything and have it be perfect. Sometimes you just have to go in and say fuck it, I want you. And go for it, bro. Don’t be timid. You’re not the kind of guy who’d hurt her. You’re plenty confident in all other areas. Just show it.”
“Asshole,” I muttered. Then, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” they both said at once, and we went back to watching the baseball game.
But I had to ask. “So if I did want to rim her, what the hell would I do?”
They erupted into laughter.
Later on, after ordering Perry his monocle and smoking jacket, I Googled healthy sex sites, managing to find a few that seemed a bit more than just “wear a condom” and “get tested.” My phone buzzed, and I picked it up, thinking it could be Audrey.
But no.
Jade: Want to come to Kevin’s party this Saturday? His parents are out of town
Tate: Sorry, no
I felt like an ass for not saying more. But I didn’t want to go with her, and I didn’t want to go to the party. I never needed to cut loose, because my parents let me do that here.
Still, I felt like my text was too terse.
Tate: I have to work a party for my mom
Jade: And after? It’s not a party unless you’re there :)
Tate: Probably with Audrey, if I go anywhere
Jade: Oh. Okay
I should just block her number, but Jade hadn’t done anything except asked me to a party that probably half the school was going to.
I blinked.
That meant she’d asked me out. I wasn’t going to do that to Audrey, who was already sick of how many times Jade texted me.
I blocked Jade’s number and deleted the messages. I’d let nothing stand in the way of being with the girl I really wanted.
Five
Not Feeling Sorry
Audrey
“What do I do now?” I asked, glancing around at the Happy Bear Diner. The diner’s decor was a mix of 1950s music, old Mustard Festival posters, carved bear figurines, and pictures of Thai royalty. It also served as my second home, given the amount of time I’d spent here.
I was spending Saturday afternoon here with Wren because after flopping around restlessly all last night, I needed to download everything that had happened with my parents and with Tate and I needed more than texting. I also wasn’t telling her in private, because I wasn’t going to cry. No crying. Ever. (Again.) So, I wanted a public space.
Plus, the food was good.
I pulled a fry from the plate, dredged it in ketchup, and popped it in my mouth. “I don’t know how to make her better. I don’t know that there’s anything I can do except take her to appointments when my dad is working and help out at home. Apparently, it’s going to be hard for her to hold silverware soon, and we have to buy her these special, big plastic kind. My dad’s going to put in all sorts of other modifications to the house. She’s going to be in a wheelchair. I feel like an idiot that I hadn’t realized how much she’d declined over the past few years. It snuck up on me. Now I can see it though, you know?”
“I’m so sorry,” Wren whispered, her face falling. She tucked a lock of her straight, dark hair behind her shoulder. “When my dad had his heart attack, it was sudden, and we couldn’t plan. We just had to deal with the aftermath. It’s amazing how much life can change in a day.”
“Or two.” I bit into another fry.
Wren’s mom owned this diner, which served a combination of classic American food and a secret Thai menu that you had to ask for. I ordered pad Thai and French fries because I could. Wren nibbled on her fresh rolls. Mrs. Namuang never let me pay, although I always tried. She said I’m family. As I grew older, that meant more and more to me.
“Can I whine?”
“Sure,” Wren said easily.
“Like, at the Universe? Because I’m pissed at it.”
She nodded.
“My mom doesn’t deserve to be sick. She’s the kindest person. If she were a villain, it would make sense, but she’s done nothing wrong.”
Wren nodded again but let me talk.
I continued, my words exploding out like a Calistoga geyser. “It sucks that being sick has nothing to do with deserving it. The people who least deserve it get ill, while jerks stay totally healthy. If this world were fair, only assholes would get diseases, while good people would thrive. But it doesn’t matter how nice a person you are.” I angrily jabbed at the ketchup with another fry. “You can still get really sick. Hence, the Universe sucks.”
“I’m sorry,” Wren said simply. “It’s not fair. How is she taking it?”
“She’s frail and shaky. And I’m scared for her.”
“Lots of people live with MS for years and years.”
I nodded, but I didn’t really know that. I didn’t know what stage she was in, and I didn’t know if my parents were keeping anything else from me. “There’s more. My parents asked me to defer entering college and go to community college here.”
Wren dropped her fresh roll on her plate, a look of horror on her face. “They asked you to not go to New York?”
“Yep.”
“That’s … that’s … terrible. All your plans. Are you going to do it? What are you going to do?”
I shrugged and glanced around at the diner. Then I started sketching a design for an outfit on a paper napkin, something I frequently did when I needed to sort out my brain. “I haven’t decided yet. They want me to stay here. I think I have to.”
Her face fell for the second time in minutes. “But—”
Holding up my hand, I put it to her mouth. “Shh.”
“But Audrey,” she got out around my palm.
I narrowed my eyes at her. “I’m not going there. I’m not doing it. I’m not thinking it or saying it.”
“Fine,” she hissed. “I’ll go there for you because I’m thinking and saying it. Honey, I feel sorry for you. I know you. You just started dating Tate for real. He finally asked you out. And you want to get the hell out of here. With him. To see the world.”
My eyes welled up with tears, and I willed them to stop. “I do,” I whispered. “I’m scared of never getting out of here. I’m scared of not being with him.”
“Hmm,” Wren said. “This major league sucks. Because I’m going to miss you.”
I hadn’t let myself think about it, but Wren had enrolled at NYU and planned on studying film, with a fervent desire to direct female-centered superhero movies. Add hanging with Wren to the list of things I wasn’t going to experience next year.
“I’m going to miss you too. And him. I can’t learn fashion design at Merlot Community College. I can’t visit all the Ivy Leagues for inspiration from old buildings and libraries. I’m scared that if I stay here, all my best days will be in high school. Like a total loser.”
Wren’s face twisted in concern. “Maybe there’s a solution.” She sipped her Thai iced tea then reached over and tapped my hand. “Putting off a dream doesn’t mean it won’t ever happen. You can still have all the things you want. It’ll just take a bit longer.”
That really made me want to cry. “Tate wrote up a list of things that he and I were going to do.”
“Oh? W
hat kind of list? Did it have naughty things on it?”
A gleam shone in her eye, and I shoved her hand away. “Not that kind of list,” I insisted, although my skin zinged with the thought. “Tate made up a list of places to visit, and the way he talked about it, it felt like we could really go. I just have never traveled. Unlike everyone else. You go places.”
“We travel to Thailand about every year or so.”
“See? We don’t. My dad plans a family trip for us every other year to visit his parents in Mississippi.”
“What did Tate say when you told him about your mom?”
“I haven’t told him yet.”
She blinked.
I held up my hand. “Yes, we can talk about that, but one issue at a time. What am I going to do if I’m at home and everyone else is gone and doing their thing?”
“You could work. Have you thought about getting a job?”
No, I hadn’t thought about that. I was still in shock from my mom’s news. “You’re right. I probably should. It has to be something that won’t interfere with my mom’s doctor’s appointments and therapy.”
She clapped her hands. “I know! You should go work on the train! That’s just evenings and weekends.”
“The wine train?” I asked incredulously. The famous Napa Valley Wine Train served a very fancy dinner (and sometimes lunch) along the rails in the neighboring valley. But that train literally didn’t go anywhere. It took hours to crawl up the valley and then back again. Talk about a train to nowhere.
“Think about it. It’s good money. They hire eighteen-year-olds, too.”
It wasn’t the worst idea I’d ever heard. If I had to stay, maybe I could work on the train. Then it would seem like I was going places. “I’ll look into it,” I said. I picked up the ketchup to add more, and it spurted all over my hands. “Guh, let me clean this off.”
I stood up and went to the bathroom. When I inspected myself in the mirror, I noticed my brown eyes had become glossy, and I had dark circles under them from not sleeping last night.
It’s gonna be okay, girl.
I sighed.
I wished my life were different.
And somehow, looking at myself in the mirror, I knew I needed to stop wishing for that, because it wasn’t going to happen. I needed to play with the cards I’d been dealt.
I could do this. I could take care of my mom and wait on my dream. Even though it felt like my world was crashing down now, in a few years I’d look back and realize it was all for the best.
After washing my hands and checking my face, I returned and slid into the booth across from Wren, who had unapologetically stolen one of my fries.
“Now can we talk about Tate?”
“Sure.”
Wren’s tone was gentle. “What’s going to happen when school starts in the fall?”
“If I take care of my mom, he goes away. I don’t.” My lip trembled.
“That can’t be the answer, though. You just got him for real. You can’t let him leave. Not while you’re just starting something. You need to do some sort of big gesture. Show him how you feel with large notecards.”
“You’ve watched Love, Actually too many times, and I don’t even know if I have him for real. I have him for now.”
“God,” she hissed. “This is depressing! And come fall, Jade heads to the East Coast, too, right? At Penn?”
I will not cry.
“Don’t remind me. It’s not the end of the world,” I said reasonably, feeling like it was the end of the world.
“It’s huge! You’re sacrificing your future.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Every noble and wonderful thing in this world is based on sacrifice.” I threw up my hands. “I don’t want to call what I’m doing a sacrifice. I’m not sacrificing a damned thing. I’m getting my mom. My family. It’s an opportunity for me to show how much I care.”
“If you give up your new boyfriend and your college experience, you’re going to resent it.”
“Would you give those up for your mom?” I challenged. “In my place, what would you do?”
She studied me. “Okay, yeah. I’d take care of my mom.”
“See? I’m making the same choice you would.”
“But what about Tate?”
I let out a sigh. “I don’t know,” I whispered. “It feels like we just started, only to stop. We’ve done nothing. And I have all these feelings for him. I’ve barely kissed him, and I want to do more.”
“Would you sleep with him?” she asked.
A warm feeling expanded in my chest. “I would. I want to do everything with him. Every. Thing. I’d let—”
“Are you going to talk about that with him?”
“Sleeping with him?” I squeak.
“Yes, but I was talking about staying here. If you decide to do that.”
“I’m scared,” I admit. “This is new and fragile. He just admitted he liked me. But yes, I’ll talk with him.”
“Good. You guys are meant for each other.” Her face dropped. “But it’ll just hurt more when he leaves, huh?”
“Yeah,” I said. I ate a fry. “Is it bad that I want to have this summer with him? Even if I have to let him go at the end?”
“Why don’t you let him decide?”
“We can decide it together. It’s too early to ask him now. I’ll see how it goes.”
She nodded.
“Are you going to hold back with him knowing that he’s leaving? I mean emotionally as well as physically.”
“I don’t want to. While everything in me is screaming to protect my heart, I want him. In all the ways.” I caught her eyes. “Does that make me a bad person?”
“To want to sleep with a hot guy you’ve liked for years? No. But to get all cozy with him and then send him to the other side of the country? That’s a recipe to hurt both of you. Listen, I fully support you taking care of your mom and getting closer with the one guy you have wrapped around your finger. But I will not support you dumping him at the end of summer.”
My voice lowers. “I don’t want to do that.”
But was that something that would happen?
“There isn’t an easy answer,” she said. “But you’re going on a date with him tomorrow?”
I nodded.
“And you’re going to eventually talk with him?”
I nodded again.
She smiled. “Then let me come over and help you pick out an outfit.”
“Thanks,” I said.
We left to go to my house while I secretly obsessed over what I’d do without Tate in my life.
Six
Emojis
Tate
After spending all day Saturday working with my mom catering a wedding at a local boutique hotel, I crawled into the MLR and grabbed my phone. It was late at night. I’d been so busy serving hors d’oeuvres I hadn’t been able to text Audrey, even though I’d thought about her every time I passed the cake. Not only was it sweet like her, but I kinda wished the topper looked like us. And was at our wedding.
Audrey was accustomed to me having these jobs on weekends, especially in summer. Years ago, Mom decided Perry, Bert, and I needed to know how to serve food and act at parties. Today, I’d failed in both those endeavors since I caused a minor food-related disaster that didn’t make Mom happy. I sighed.
Safe in the cab of my truck and eager to contact Audrey now that I was free, I had half a mind to drive over to her house despite the hour. Instead, my fingers dashed over the phone screen.
Tate: Guess how many mini lobster rolls wrapped in tiny red and white checked paper bags I dropped?
Audrey: More than one?
Tate: Two trays. On the prep kitchen floor. Made such a huge mess. Mom was pissed
Tate: I’m no model employee
Tate: I might be out of a job for a while
Tate: Like at least until next weekend when she has another big bash
Tate: More time to hang with you, though. :)
Aud
rey: Sorry about the event, but to be fair, I’m sorrier about the loss of the lobster rolls. Your mom’s are yummy
Tate: You wound me
Audrey: Kidding. I’m sorry about your job loss
Tate: So
Tate: About that date. Still wanna go on one with a hapless waiter?
Audrey: Absolutely <3
Tate: Pick you up tomorrow at noon. Missed you today. Night. x
I wondered after I hit send whether I should’ve included the x, but I settled on liking the fact that I sent it. If I couldn’t kiss her for real, I’d kiss her virtually.
Audrey: Night. x
I smiled to myself.
The next afternoon, I took my seat in a booth across from Audrey at Craft, a Sonoma classic food institution, thinking about how much between us was the same and how much was, I hoped, about to change.
Despite having eaten here with Audrey dozens of times, today felt different because of what I wanted to ask her.
The host left us menus, and I took in Audrey’s beauty. Dressed in a classic blue-striped sailor shirt, tiny white shorts, and strappy espadrilles, she was my hot girl fantasy.
But some concerning tiredness in her eyes hadn’t been present the last time we saw each other. I hung out with her so frequently, I often knew when she was sick or about to get her period, even when she hadn’t figured those things out herself. I guess I knew when she was off because she was my everything. But I didn’t know what this current down-in-the-dumps expression meant.
“Are you worried about finals?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows.
Audrey blinked rapidly at me, picked up the menu, then shot me a grin that didn’t meet her eyes. “No. Why?”
I opened my mouth to explain, but the waiter sidled up to the table and took our drink order—house-made sodas.
Maybe I should’ve taken us somewhere where we wouldn’t be interrupted. This better not be as bad as the picnic tables at school the other day.
Not wanting to be inadvertently insulting, I needed to choose my words carefully. “You look a little tired.”
Boy on a Train: The All American Boy Series Page 5