Meg & Linus

by Hanna Nowinski

  Chapter 56

  Linus

  FRIDAY I BARELY REGISTER WHAT classes I’m sitting in; I have a bio exam but I’m so well prepared I’m sure I did well anyway.

  The performance is pretty much right after class at three that afternoon, which means the theater kids even get to skip last period to prepare.

  I know that I’m a rather perky and scatterbrained Mr. Hudson-the-landlord today, but I can’t help it. I still feel like I’m in a dream. Because once this performance is over I have a date. My first-ever date. With a boy I really, really, really like. I have no idea what to expect, but I’m looking forward to it so much.

  I just wish I could tell Meg; I almost feel like I’m going to burst if I don’t talk to someone. But instead I just keep it to myself and pour all of this excess energy into my performance and, judging from the way people slap me on the back as I go offstage, I guess I did well.

  * * *

  I don’t think that being on a date is going to be so very different at all from the two of us hanging out with the rest of the drama people, and yet I can’t help being a nervous wreck.

  We both rushed home real quick to get changed after the play. I told Danny that my dad could give me a lift to the movie theater; it wouldn’t have been a problem. It’s a Friday afternoon and my parents are home early for once; they actually have a date night of their own later.

  I could probably even have borrowed a car, but Danny insists on picking me up, says it’s more romantic this way. (Romantic! No one has ever wanted to do anything romantic with me before!) And to be honest, I’m glad that I don’t have to drive in the snow that started falling heavily the day before.

  I am standing in front of my open closet trying to find something to wear, but I have no idea what to pick. I mean, he knows what I look like. Would it be weird to dress up? Am I making too big a deal out of this? It would probably be silly to dress up too much. And besides, we have been alone together countless times before, in the library or at the coffee shop for our tutoring sessions. So this is not all that new, not all that different—except for the million ways it is completely and utterly new and different and a little scary and exciting and overwhelming.

  I wish Meg was here. She’d help me pick out a shirt and she’d find something to say to make me calm down a bit. I miss her. It seems wrong that she’s not here to calm me down; it’s kind of how we work.

  My parents are here, but they are no help at all. On the contrary, they’re sort of making everything a million times worse. Dad is downstairs searching the kitchen drawers for batteries for his camera (luckily he hasn’t figured out yet how to take photos with his phone), and Mom keeps popping into my room to entertain me with all sorts of advice and offering to fix my hair. Which just makes me panic that my hair looks weird and might need fixing. That particular worry hadn’t even occurred to me before.

  “He respects you, right?” she asks for the millionth time. “That’s important. Don’t let him pressure you into anything you might not be ready for. You don’t have to do anything just because everyone else is doing it—remember that!”

  “Oh my god, Mom.” I sigh. “He’s not like that, okay? He’s—”

  “This is just a really big step and I want you to be prepared,” she says, and I’m about to just climb into the closet and lock myself in there and breathe into a paper bag when Dad shows up in the door.

  “Linus is a good judge of character,” he tells my mom. “Don’t worry about him.” I have no idea where he got that idea, but I’ll take it. “Linus,” he continues in my direction. “I found batteries, but I’m not sure about the light in the entryway and it’s too dark to take the pictures outside, so if I set things up in the living room, do you think you guys have enough time for him to come in for a few minutes?”

  My stomach drops. “Set—up … what—Dad, what are you setting up?”

  My dad reaches around the door frame and waves a tripod at me. “I think the wall next to the fireplace would be a good backdrop. I’m just going to take down the pictures because those picture frames reflect the light from the ceiling lamp and—”

  I hold up a hand to silence him. “Please,” I manage. “Please don’t take down any pictures. This isn’t prom night or anything. Just—I think I’m just meeting him outside anyway.”

  Dad frowns and exchanges a look with Mom. “Are you sure?” Mom asks.

  “I’d really like to meet him,” Dad says.

  I hide my face behind my hands and groan. “I’m just here to get changed,” I plead, and they finally shuffle out of my room so I can continue panicking over my outfit. I’m glad that my parents are supportive, but the last thing I need is for them to scare him off before—well. Before I’ve had a chance to see where this all might go.

  And I’m already nervous enough as it is.

  * * *

  I really didn’t expect him to come up to the door and ring the bell and shake my parents’ hands. It doesn’t do much to make me feel less fluttery.

  “You must be Danny,” my mom says as she grins at him widely in a way that is so not subtle at all, and I just kind of want to disappear out of sheer embarrassment. “I’ve heard so much about you!”

  “Hi, Mrs. Hanson,” Danny says, then nods at my dad. “And Mr. Hanson. Nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too,” my dad assures him as he takes over the rather enthusiastic hand-shaking. “You boys going to see a movie?”

  “Dad, I already told you that,” I try to interfere, but Danny beams at him.

  “Yes!”

  “Oh, hey,” my mom says. “Linus says you’re Watson in the school play? We both can’t wait to see it! We have tickets for tomorrow.”

  “I hope you like it,” Danny says a little shyly. “I know I’m having fun with it. And Linus is a great Mr. Hudson. You could never tell he hasn’t been onstage before.”

  “Oh, but he has,” my dad chimes in. “Linus, have you forgotten?”

  I just blink at him, a little lost, and my mom laughs.

  “Oh, that’s right. It was a preschool play! Some fairy tale, I think. Linus, you played a tree, don’t you remember? We had to dress you up all in brown and green and you had that hat with the leaves on it? You were so proud of how well you could hold out your arms like branches for the whole scene—”

  “Mom,” I cut her off, blushing furiously. I really had forgotten about that. It’s not like I can remember it well in the first place; I was four at the time.

  “So you were a child actor. I had no idea.” Danny bumps our shoulders together and my parents laugh with him, and even if this is a little embarrassing, their laughter makes me happy. I’m glad that they seem to get along, even if I can still see Dad hiding that camera behind his back.

  My parents have known about me being gay for a long time now and they’ve always been fine with it in theory. And I know they love me. But they have never actually seen me act on it. They have never seen me with a boy. Because there has never been a boy to see me with until now.

  But my mom seems to love him immediately and within a minute of them talking, it looks like my dad is about to adopt him on the spot.

  We manage to get away eventually, without any photos being taken, and once in the car, I turn to him, shake my head. “What just happened back there?”

  “Your parents are awesome,” he answers happily.

  “I didn’t know you wanted to meet them.”

  “Oh! I’m sorry, should I not have? I mean, they seemed cool with you being—you know. Dating a boy and all that…”

  “No, they’re—that’s not—it’s fine,” I assure him. “I just wasn’t prepared for this.”

  “So we’re okay?”

  I nod. “We are always okay.”

  Even on a late Friday afternoon the small movie theater is never exactly crowded. We get seats in the back where no one can see us and I’m grateful for that; apparently my parents are absolutely okay with me going out with a boy, but I am still ne
ver quite sure what the rest of the world is going to think about it, and I don’t want this night interrupted by people shouting mean things at us. I am determined to enjoy this, and so far, I am.

  I manage to kind of focus on the movie even if I’m very aware the entire time that Danny is sitting next to me and that we’re not here merely as friends and that I really have no clue what to do next.

  If I were a slightly braver person, I might try to take his hand. But I’m afraid of my palms being sweaty and I’m even more afraid that he has maybe changed his mind about this and I’m going to make it awkward. So I sit in my seat and stare straight ahead and don’t do anything. Every few minutes, I can feel him looking at me, though. I flicker my eyes back at him when I’m sure he has looked away and even in the dim lights of the movie theater he is still the cutest thing I have ever seen. Somehow he has made his hair extra spiky today and it is so adorable, I just want to touch it. But I don’t. Luckily, I have more self-control than that.

  Once the credits start rolling and the lights come back up, we walk out side by side and I can feel my levels of nervousness spiking, because as nerve-racking as this was already, now comes the part of the evening I have really been worried about. Now we have to sit over dinner and actually talk and I know that we have sat and talked a million times before. This is just different, okay?

  Silence stretches between us as we walk out into the light of the foyer and I desperately try to think of something to say. But somehow, my mind is completely blank. Are there rules for appropriate topics you can talk about during a date? I’m torn between I have to be smart and witty and charming to win him over and just be yourself, he already asked you out, he obviously doesn’t have a problem with the way your mind works! But seriously, all my brain comes up with as conversation prompters are random facts about the International Space Station and the documentary about humpback whales I saw the other day. My guess is that he probably doesn’t want to talk about either of those things.

  “Did you like the movie?” he asks.

  I mentally kick myself because yes, that is a good way to start a conversation after just having seen a movie together! I could have thought of that and made an impression with my small-talk skills. But I guess the important thing is that we’re talking at all.

  “I did,” I say, and it’s true, it was nice. Even if I feel like I probably missed a lot because I was kind of focused on him sitting right there next to me the entire time. “What did you think?”

  He shrugs, shoves his hands into his pockets, bumps our shoulders together. “I liked the company.”

  That makes me laugh. “You are ridiculous.”

  “Maybe. But I made you laugh, so I’m counting it as a win.”

  “I laugh all the time. Don’t flatter yourself.”

  “You’re so charming!” he says.

  “I practiced in front of a mirror.”

  It’s his turn to laugh and he nudges my arm again with his. “Now I am flattered that you went to all these lengths to prepare for our date tonight.”

  I tilt my head at him as we step out onto the street. “Who says I did it for you? Maybe that was all for the other boy I’m going on a date with after you drop me off at home.”

  “Well,” he says determinedly. “Then I guess I have no choice but to keep you out as late as possible in order to prevent that from happening.”

  “What if I have a time machine?”

  “Is it built into a DeLorean?”

  I heave a sigh and shake my head at him. “Is there any other kind?”

  And suddenly we are just talking, walking side by side to his car, and it’s as easy and effortless as it always is. It makes me happy to realize that even with the circumstances of our social interaction somewhat changed, we can still get along easily enough. I’m still nervous. But this is also still Danny here with me, and I already know that he sort of likes me. It’s mind-boggling and not something I can quite wrap my head around even now. But it still appears to be true and that makes me the luckiest guy in the world.

  Dinner is at a small place not too far from the movie theater and since he called ahead and made a reservation, we get a table in the back that’s a bit secluded from the rest of the room. I like that. Both the fact that he called ahead and the fact that not everyone can stare at us the entire time.

  Conversation continues to flow easily enough even if he has to carry it pretty much alone for a few minutes once we are seated. The low lighting and soft music and the candle on the table and the single flower in a vase before us momentarily short-circuits my brain just a bit; the setting is undeniably romantic and if I had doubted even for a second before that this was not just two friends hanging out, I definitely have to believe it now: This is actually a date. I am actually on a date with the best and cutest and smartest guy I have ever met in my life. It’s happening and it’s not as good as I thought it would be—it’s miles better! Because he’s my friend and we like each other and it’s easy whenever it’s not paralyzingly frightening.

  I’ve never been to this restaurant before because my family usually eats at home—both my parents love to cook. For a moment I’m nervous that I won’t know anything on the menu and embarrass myself, but a quick glance assures me that I’m not completely out of my depth and my heart rate normalizes.

  “I think I want pizza,” Danny says.

  I nod. “Pizza sounds good.”

  We order and once the waiter is gone, he props his chin up on one hand, blinks at me lazily across the table. “This is nice.”

  “Yeah,” I breathe, clear my throat quickly. “It really is.”

  Even while we eat, I manage to not make a complete fool of myself. I don’t spill anything, I don’t knock over any glasses, I don’t choke on my food. Not that I usually do these things a lot. I just get really clumsy when I’m nervous.

  It’s late by the time we leave the restaurant, but not that late. I don’t have to be home for almost another two hours. My parents were generous with my curfew. And I don’t want the night to end: I am having so much fun with him, and I’m not quite ready yet for my first-ever date to be over. But since I’m not quite sure how to say any of that or even if it would be okay to ask to spend a little more time together, I fall silent and just walk next to him in the direction of his car.

  “Hey,” he says after a long moment, and when I turn my head I find him already watching me.

  “What?”

  “Do you—I mean. I don’t have to be home yet. Do you—?”

  “No. Not for a while,” I say.

  “Would you like, um? It’s cool if you want to go home, but if you don’t have any other plans, we could—we could maybe talk? A bit more? Just—only if you want to. We could get some coffee or hot chocolate or whatever and…” He shrugs, bites his lip, and kicks up a little snow with his feet.

  I lift my head and take in the scenery before me, the snow-covered sidewalks and icy street, the light from the streetlamps reflected soft and yellow off the shiny white surface of the snow. Thick flakes start falling again just at that moment and I turn my head up to greet them and smile and finally I have the best idea ever.

  “Let’s build a snow alien.”

  He blinks at me. “Is that like a snowman?”

  I nod, bouncing a little on the heels of my feet with excitement. “It’s exactly like a snowman, only you can get creative with it. Pointy ears, tentacles, whatever you like.”

  “That sounds great,” he says. “Yes, let’s do that!”

  My parents are out on their own date night by now so I invite him back to my house and into my backyard, where we immediately set to work once I have retrieved two pairs of thick woolen gloves from inside. No need to freeze our fingers off, after all.

  Together, we roll three huge snowballs and heave them on top of each other; the final result is almost as tall as I am myself and I’m already quite proud of our accomplishment. And then the fun part begins in which I form long pointy ears for our snowm
an to attach to either side of his head while Danny goes off in search of soft branches for arms. We give him eight arms. From the garden shed I retrieve the end of a leaf rake and we fix that to his chest as an armor plate. Because our snow alien is a superhero. I get a small plastic flowerpot from the cupboard on the porch that he gets as a snout, another soft twig becomes the mouth, and finally I run to get three round lumps of coal from the garage to use as eyes. Of course a snow alien has three eyes. Danny agrees with me.

  Once we are done, we take a step back to admire our work. He looks absurd. He looks absolutely wonderful.

  “I have to take a picture of this,” Danny decides, tugging one glove off with his teeth to dig his phone from his jacket pocket, stepping back another foot to fit the entire glorious snow alien into his picture. He squints his eyes at the screen of his phone once the shutter has clicked, smiles. “Perfect.”

  “Can I see?” I want to know, and instead of turning the phone to show me, he presses our sides together, holding the screen so we can both watch it, his head tilted close to mine.

  “Cute,” I confirm, because I feel like I have to say something even if my heart is suddenly trying to hammer my ribs to pieces in my chest. It’s cold out but he’s close enough that I can feel how warm he is, and it’s distracting. In a good way!

  “We should take one of us, too,” he says softly. “To commemorate this night.”

  “I, um, oh.” I wince a little. I’ve just spent an hour running around in the snow and I know what that does to my skin; it’s probably all red and splotchy and my hair is a mess and I’m not sure he really wants a picture of that.

  “Come on,” he says, and takes my gloved hand with his gloved hand, dragging me into the light of the porch lamp, which is quite bright if you stand right in the circle of light it projects.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’ll text you the picture. We need a memento!”

  I’m absolutely certain I’ll remember this night forever anyway, but I can’t deny him anything. “If you really want a picture of me looking frozen solid,” I joke.