by Aaron Karo
It occurs to me that this is the very same spot where our parents took that picture of us in the bathtub almost eighteen years ago. It triggers a flood of happy memories. What are the odds that our friendship would have lasted this long?
It’s really quiet in the bathroom. I soothe Jak. Rub her shoulders. Tell her she’s doing great. Occasionally she dry-heaves. But the worst is over.
When I’m with Jak I’ve found that I never want to be anywhere else. Whether it’s in the bathtub right now picking puke from her hair, or lying next to her in a hammock staring up at the stars. Sure, I’ve pointed to her social anxiety as the reason I rarely go to parties or hang out with anyone but her. But maybe it’s simply because I don’t want to hang out with anyone but her.
“Jak,” I whisper into her ear, “why did you drink so much?” As if there is ever a logical answer to that question.
I feel her shoulders shrug ever so slightly. “Adam. Tristen. Dunno,” she whimpers.
My mind begins to race. Why did I really wait to tell Jak that Hedgehog and Balloon wanted to set me up with Tristen? Why was I so excited to see Jak at the mall on my date with Tristen? Why do I care what Jak thinks about Tristen? And most importantly, why does it bother me to see Jak with Adam? When Jak accused me at the smoothie bar of being jealous . . . was she right?
I squeeze Jak even tighter. I can feel every breath she takes. Every cough rattles her rib cage. I’m confused. I’m not thinking straight. Maybe my parents’ story has gone to my head.
But then I think about me and Jak. Our telepathy. Her way with words. How she finds the flaws in every single person on earth. Everyone except for me.
This low rumble in my heart. This fog that’s been clouding my brain.
Oh my God.
I have feelings for Jak.
She stirs in the water. For a second I think I might have said that out loud. But I haven’t, and she settles down.
I can’t have feelings for Jak, I tell myself. I’m just getting nostalgic. I’m scared about graduating and leaving home. We’re a platonic superduo and always will be. She’s my best friend.
But she’s also beautiful. And brilliant. And hilarious.
None of it matters anyway, because it will never be. In the wake of Voldemort, Jak told me explicitly that this was a line she would not cross. We will never be more than friends. She’s been consistent about that point ever since.
Except when she randomly holds my hand or tells me she misses me or gets jealous when I’m dating someone else . . .
My mind is racing. I press my lips into the back of Jak’s hair, near her neck.
I don’t want to feel this way. I don’t want to risk our friendship. I don’t know what I want.
Jak yawns.
Very slowly, I start to turn her around in the tub so that she’s sitting facing me. Her bra is soaked through to her breasts. Her hair is matted down on her forehead. Her eyes are half closed, and a single droplet of water rolls down the tip of her nose. But she still manages a grin.
Jak always says that perfect moments make her feel uncomfortable, and that’s why she has to ruin them. But I know it’s just a defense mechanism. Nothing could ruin this moment.
I caress Jak’s face with my hand.
She looks up expectantly.
I search for the right words to say.
Jak opens her mouth, as if she’s about to interrupt me and tell me exactly what I’m feeling.
I hang on her next breath.
And then she vomits right into the tub.
25
I CAN TELL MY CLIENTS the optimal time to ask a girl out. I can help them interpret her body language. I can determine whether text, Facebook, or Instagram is the proper channel for flirtation. But there are some scenarios for which my skills are woefully inadequate.
For instance, let’s just say you think you might have romantic feelings for your best friend but you’re not really sure and you don’t really know what you’re feeling and then when you’re about to say something to her, she vomits. How long should you wait before trying to bring it up again? Three days? A week? A lifetime? There are no right answers.
Jak remembers little from that night. She knows she got smashed at the party. She knows I helped her get home in one piece. Besides that, she hasn’t asked, and I haven’t offered any more details. Things between us are fine. Stable to perhaps a bit awkward, but that will pass. If anything, she’s embarrassed by the whole thing. And this from a girl who does not easily feel shame. She once told me that she only has four feelings: happy, sad, bored, and umami. She is such an endearing weirdo.
Meanwhile, I’m left to wrestle with my own, much more complicated feelings. I thought that maybe I just had a moment of weakness in the bathtub. Maybe I was just a little buzzed. But when I woke up the next morning, my feelings for Jak, whatever they are, were still there. I don’t really know what they mean and I don’t even know if they’re real. I would certainly not be the first guy to confuse jealousy and nostalgia for actual affection. Never mind the fact that I’m dating Tristen, and Jak long ago declared herself off-limits anyway. The whole thing is confusing and compounded by the dangerous level of hormones flooding my soon-to-be-eighteen-year-old body.
While I continue soul-searching, I’ve decided there is one person I can open up to about my conflicted feelings for Jak: Adam. And, yes, I realize he seems like the last person on earth I should be confiding in. But he and Jak have been hanging out for a few weeks, and I feel like I should be honest with him, guy to guy. He’s a client and a friend, and I don’t want to keep him in the dark. Maybe since he knows both me and Jak he can even shed some light on the whole situation, or at least tell me I’m being crazy. At the minimum, Adam owes me enough to listen to what I have to say. And that’s why I’ve come here, to anime club.
I open a door in the administration hallway to find an all-purpose classroom with a television and a DVD player at the front. I go unnoticed by the ten or so hoodie-clad male students who are watching a trippy Japanese cartoon. I cannot follow a second of it. More importantly, Adam is nowhere to be found.
“It’s called Fullmetal Alchemist.”
I jump when I hear Adam behind me.
“What?” I say as I turn around.
“Fullmetal Alchemist,” Adam says. “That’s what they’re watching. One of the most popular anime series of all time.”
“Got it. Why aren’t you in there?”
“I was with Rebecca. She was upset.”
I was the only person who witnessed Harrison and Rebecca fighting at the party, and one of the few who even knew they were going out in the first place. But since then I’ve heard through the grapevine that they split up.
“Is she okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, she’s fine now. She wouldn’t actually tell me what was wrong. We’ve been working on her proposal for a second extracurricular period.”
“How’s that going?”
“Pretty well. Rebecca is something. There’s a surprising amount of legwork that needs to be done in order to get it approved, and she just powers through it.”
“I heard she once negotiated down the price of her pizza because there wasn’t enough pepperoni on it.”
“Um. Okay. I mean it wouldn’t surprise me.”
“Just think,” I say, “two extracurricular periods after school means double the anime.”
“Right. So . . . did you just come here to hang out or what?
“Well, there’s kinda something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Actually, me too,” he says. “What happened at the party? You just left. And so did Jak. I can’t get a straight answer out of her. Did you guys go home together?”
“Yes and no,” I say.
“Um . . .”
“I mean, I took her home, but I didn’t, like, ‘take her home.’ She
just got too drunk and needed my help. It was a best friend thing.”
“Why didn’t she just tell me that?”
“Why does Jak do anything she does?”
“True.”
“But the thing is, when I was helping her, I started to think . . .”
Adam looks at me.
“Think what?”
“I started to think that maybe I have feelings for her.”
“Oh,” he says. “Oh.”
“It’s probably nothing. I’m probably just confused. But it’s been weirding me out. And I wanted to be totally honest with you.”
He takes a deep breath. “Well, I appreciate you saying something.”
“I know I’m putting you in an awkward position.”
“I’m not sure what you want me to do.”
“Tell me I’m crazy.”
He considers this. “Jak is awesome. So I get where you’re coming from.”
“So I could not be crazy?”
“Shane, you’re the relationship expert. Why are you asking me?”
“Good point.”
“Do you want me to back off?” Adam says. “Is that what you’re saying?”
I begin to regret bringing it up at all. Because the truth is, I don’t know what I want.
“No,” I say. “I mean, you do whatever you think is right. I just wanted to be totally honest with you.”
“You said that already.”
“Oh.”
“I feel like I should back off,” he says. “You know what you’re doing. I mean, it was you who said I should go after Olivia when no one else on the planet believed it was possible.”
“Yeah, but Olivia cheated on you and left you crying at the beach like a Taylor Swift video.”
“Ouch.”
Sometimes I have to remind myself how much sway I have over Adam. He really looks up to me. I shouldn’t abuse that.
“I think this might have been a mistake,” I say. “Forget I even said anything.”
“It’s kind of a hard thing to forget.”
“I know, but just try. It’s been a weird few weeks. Don’t listen to me.”
“All right . . . ,” he says.
I look into the classroom. “Get back in there,” I say. “Enjoy your cartoon.”
Adam furrows his brow and reluctantly joins his anime club comrades.
I’m left standing in the hallway alone. I don’t feel any better. I’m not thinking any clearer.
I hear cheers and claps coming from the classroom. I wish I could join them in their fantasyland. Because my reality is more confusing than ever.
26
IF THE GALGORITHM HAS A birthplace, it may very well be Crescent Park. It was here that Voldemort broke up with me, sending me into a tailspin.
The park is in the center of town, about ten minutes from my house. It’s nothing special. Just a basketball court, a little playground, and a couple of benches. What I like about it—check that, what I used to like about it—is that since the park is nestled in a residential area, it never really gets completely dark. It’s surrounded by nearby porch lights and streetlamps, so even at night you can still see about twenty feet in any direction. It’s like permanent dusk.
Voldemort and I used to come here, sit on a blanket, talk, and make out. I was in awe of her. Older, wiser, a bit of a baby face but with perfect dimples, soft hands, and that red hair. She used to wear these flannel shirts I could never unbutton. She would do it for me and then we would roll around on the blanket together. I wished we could roll around on that blanket forever. Until she told me that she wanted to see other people. And that those other people did not include me.
The light plays tricks on you in this park. Tonight I’m here sitting on a blanket with Tristen, but every once in a while a shadow will fall on her face and I have to remind myself she’s not Voldemort.
Me and Tristen planned this outing well before the keg party. It was her idea to have a picnic, and she had never heard of Crescent Park, but I suggested it. I figured it had been more than three years since I’d been here. Those demons must have been exorcised by now, right?
“I know I’ve been a little cagey since the party,” I say.
“‘Cagey ’? Is that the politically correct term for shady? Every time I bring it up, you change the subject,” Tristen says.
“I know.”
“You left with Jak, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” I say. “But it wasn’t what you think. She was throwing up.”
“Oh no! Poor thing.”
“It happens.”
“So that’s it?”
Well, that and the fact that I’ve been examining every moment of the past seventeen and a half years of my life to try to figure out what my true feelings for Jak really are.
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“I think it’s sweet,” Tristen says.
“You do?”
“Yeah. You took care of your best friend. You’re loyal. That’s one of the things I like the most about you. Most guys are jerks.”
She kisses me on the lips and lingers there for maximum effect.
My brain is scrambled. Like lightning hit a satellite dish and ruined the reception in my head.
“So you’re not mad?”
“No, I’m not mad,” she says. “I mean, I wish you would have just told me the truth. After you left, I talked to that kid Adam for a while. He’s really weird. He said that the beer was too cold. How can beer be too cold?”
The strange thing is, the more Tristen reveals herself as patient and kind and just totally chill, the more conflicted about her I become. Not to sound like Adam here, but can a relationship be going too well? Tristen is amazing. And she’s a knockout. Everything is great. But the thought that this is too good to be true keeps gnawing at me.
She runs her hands through my uncombed hair. “Where are you?” she asks.
“I just have a lot on my mind,” I reply.
Jak, namely.
Tristen starts to kiss my neck. I tense up and pull back ever so slightly.
She looks at me. “Are you upset that I didn’t know how to use ‘whom’?”
“What?”
“‘Whom.’ That little inside joke you and Jak have. I was curious, so I looked up the proper usage. Turns out ‘whom’ is dying out, Shane. Some people don’t even use it anymore. So you can’t hold that against me.”
“You looked it up.”
“Yeah,” she says. “I’m working on a new piece for the Chronicle and I thought I might be able to use it.”
“I really appreciate the fact that you looked it up. But no, I’m not upset.”
She starts to kiss my cheek and then my ear.
The last time I was in this park, I had my heart broken. I’ve had my guard up ever since. But what if, in the course of protecting myself, in the course of finding other people their soul mates, I miss the real thing?
“Shane,” she whispers in my ear. “Relax. This is right.”
She grabs my face with both of her hands and kisses my lips again. Then her tongue is in my mouth, against my tongue. I half go with it, half remain tense.
“Tristen . . . ,” I manage.
She kisses my neck again and then goes back to my ear. She nibbles on my earlobe. That gets me every time. I almost wish my attraction to Tristen were merely physical. But it’s not. I genuinely like her. Which is a good thing, I tell myself.
If Voldemort hadn’t broken up with me, I never would have created the Galgorithm, which means I never would have befriended Hedgehog, which means he never would have gone out with Balloon, which means they never would have set me up with Tristen, which means I never would have ended up back in this park tonight. So maybe this is fate. Or maybe I need to get out of my head and just go with it.
I put my hand on Tristen’s cheek and kiss her. I press her onto the blanket. Only the blanket has gotten bunched up and we’re just kissing on the ground. I don’t care. She doesn’t either.
The grass feels nice underneath our bodies, and Tristen feels right in my arms.
27
I CUT CHEMISTRY IN ORDER to hang with Jak during her lunch period. The early April sun is high in the sky, and this is the first really hot day of the year. Instead of driving to lunch, we’ve opted to be lazy and lounge under the shade of the cafeteria awning. It seems like Jak has cobbled together a meal from things she found in the backseat of her car: carrots, Doritos, and a giant gobstopper.
We’ve texted a bunch since the party but haven’t spent a lot of time together, nor have we discussed what exactly transpired.
“So,” Jak says, “I basically vommed on you. That happened.”
She’s cutting right to the chase.
“You remember that?”
“I don’t remember much, but I do remember that.”
“Although I would love to make fun of you for the rest of your life for puking in your own bathtub, it kind of makes me nauseous just thinking about it. And I’m not even eating. So why don’t we agree to never speak about that part again.”
“Chambliss, you have yourself a deal.”
She starts to gnaw on the gobstopper. Personally, I would have gone with the carrots first.
“The thing is, before the, uh, reverse-peristalsis incident,” she says, “you touched my face.”
“Uh . . .”
“We were looking at each other in the tub and you kinda stroked my cheek like a creeper.”
“Boy, you say you don’t remember much, but you seem to remember a lot,” I say.
“Solid deflection.”
Typical Jak, never letting me get away with anything.
“I wasn’t ‘stroking’ your cheek, I was just making sure you were okay,” I say.