Boy

by Blake Nelson

  • • •

  When last period was over, I hurried out to the parking lot. I had this idea that I needed to be home for Mom. I’m not sure why I thought that. As I was walking to my car, I saw Krista talking to some of her friends. I went over to her.

  “Hey,” I said.

  Krista reached out and grabbed me by the arm and pulled me close to her. Her friend Sophie was telling a story about a drunk guy at a party.

  “Actually,” I whispered to Krista, “I have to go.”

  “What’s up?” she said, looking up into my face.

  I turned her around and walked her away from the others. “It’s my dad.”

  “What? Did he die?”

  “No, he didn’t die. . . . He just . . . He moved out.”

  “Oh.”

  “I should probably go home.”

  “Where did he move to?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Well, I have to go listen to Sophie. We’re going shopping. She has to be home by six.”

  “Okay.”

  “Will you text me later?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  She squeezed my arm. “Maybe you can come over,” she purred.

  “Yeah, maybe,” I said.

  • • •

  When I got home, my mom was upstairs. I could hear her talking on the phone. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I made myself some cereal and ate it. Then I sat there, waiting for my mom to come down, or for something to happen. But nothing did. I texted Krista that I probably couldn’t come over. She was a little annoyed, it sounded like.

  So then I went to my own room and lay on my bed. Coming home probably wasn’t the best idea. I went to my mom’s room and asked her if I should make some dinner, but she said no, she wasn’t hungry.

  So then I texted Kai. She and Antoinette were watching a movie at Kai’s house. I told them I was stuck at home, with my mom, and that something was going on with my parents, they were splitting up, it looked like. Kai texted back: ?????!!!!!. She and Antoinette immediately offered to come pick me up. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be around them in the state I was in. I didn’t want to start crying or do something embarrassing. But the minute I hesitated, Kai texted: We’re coming over.

  So they picked me up. The second I got in the back of Kai’s Subaru, I felt a huge weight go off me.

  At first they didn’t say anything. We just drove. Antoinette gave me some gum. I chewed it and looked out the window. Finally Kai looked at me in the rearview mirror. “So when did this thing with your dad happen?”

  “Last night,” I said.

  “He just left?” asked Kai.

  “I guess so. My mom said he has a new girlfriend.”

  “Uh-oh,” said Antoinette. It was the first time she spoke.

  “That sucks,” said Kai.

  “I’m just like . . . I don’t know what to do,” I said.

  “There’s nothing you can do,” said Antoinette, quietly chewing her gum.

  I chewed my own gum. I could feel tears coming. I didn’t know why I was so sad. Who was I sad for?

  Kai drove. Nobody really talked. Eventually Kai asked Antoinette where we should go. Antoinette suggested McDonald’s since they had McRibs, which they only had a couple times of year. So we went there.

  At first we were going to do drive-through, but then we went inside. I started to feel better once we were standing in line in the bright and colorful McDonald’s. I thought, Thank God they came and got me.

  • • •

  A week later, Krista called.

  “Hey, Gavin,” she said.

  “Hey,” I said. I was at the supermarket, buying cat food and paper towels and some other stuff my mother had forgotten when she went shopping.

  “What’s up?” she said cheerily. I could imagine her face scrunching up like it did.

  “Not much,” I said. “I’m at the supermarket.”

  “Do you have to do the shopping now, because of your dad?”

  “I hope not. But yeah. For the moment.”

  “I’m so sorry that happened.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “And I hope your mom’s okay and you’re okay.”

  “Thanks,” I said again.

  “The thing is, I sort of need to talk to you about something. . . .”

  That didn’t sound good. Not that I was surprised. I had told Krista more of the details about my dad leaving. She had not responded well. She seemed to think she would be expected to act morose and gloomy all the time. And to stop having fun.

  “What do you need to talk to me about?” I said.

  “See. The thing is, Tyler Young really likes me.”

  “Tyler Young?”

  “He said he’s been waiting for me to be single for so long. He’s been watching me. Since the beginning of freshman year.”

  I realized then who Tyler Young was. He was this dumb senior who did a lot of coke and had parties on his parents’ boat. He was—I realized in that instant—the perfect guy for Krista.

  “And the thing is,” she said, “since you’re kind of . . . well . . . you have a lot going on right now and I want to help you and be a good girlfriend and all that, but I’m not that good at things like parents breaking up. My parents are still together and I can’t imagine . . . I mean . . . well . . . it doesn’t seem like you even want me around, the way you’re acting all depressed and everything. I mean, I still like you. And you’re super nice. But Tyler. He adores me. You should hear what he says about me. And he’s a senior, so he won’t be here that much longer. So I feel like he’s the one I should be with right now. So I’m sorry. But I think it’s for the best. Don’t you?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Well, I’m sorry,” she said. “And I hope you’re okay. I can’t talk any more because Tyler is coming over. And the other thing is, Tyler said he always thought you were a really cool guy. He wanted me to tell you that.”

  “Thanks,” I said, standing in the frozen-pizza aisle of the grocery store. I stared into the frosty glass.

  “You guys are going to have sex, aren’t you?” I said. “Like right now, when he gets there.”

  “I don’t . . .”

  “You’ve probably already had sex.”

  “Since Tyler’s my boyfriend now and you’re not, I don’t think I should answer that. Good-bye.”

  She hung up the phone.

  32

  I avoided my dad completely during this time. He called, texted, sent e-mails. I ignored or deleted everything. My mom thought this was a bad idea and told me I needed to talk to him. So then I texted him back. He suggested we meet and have dinner at one of his favorite restaurants.

  I drove downtown and parked. By then I hadn’t seen him in two weeks. Despite his questionable parenting style, my father had always been physically present in my life. To not see him for that long had been a shock.

  Entering the restaurant, I saw I was early. The beautiful hostess offered to seat me, but I ignored her. I sat by myself on the little couch in front. I looked at my phone and chewed on a toothpick.

  My dad finally arrived. He was coming directly from work. He had his navy blue suit on. His hair was freshly cut and his face had more color in it than usual. Possibly he’d been to a tanning salon.

  I found it easy to be in his presence again. I greeted him and then didn’t say anything. I did what I always did: I let him take control.

  He was a regular at that restaurant. The beautiful hostess greeted him, “Good evening, Mr. Meeks.” She smiled at us both. We were led to a large booth in the back of the room.

  • • •

  “How’s your mother?” was the first thing he said. He took a sip of his Scotch, which had arrived within seconds of us sitting down.

  I shrugged, nodded, did my usual noncommunicative-teenager act.

  My father frowned. He seemed to consider his options on how best to deal with me. At that moment I was reminded of how smart he was. He was so
good at getting what he wanted. Me and my mom, we had no chance against him. Whatever he wanted to happen, that was what would happen.

  We ordered, and when the food came we ate. He started to talk: “The key, for now, is to minimize the disruption of your mother’s life. And of yours. The two of you will stay in the house. You will continue to be provided for. You and I will see each other on a regular basis. I will of course be having discussions with your mother about the details of our separation.”

  I said nothing.

  “I’ve talked to Russell. He’s very concerned, of course, but his life shouldn’t be affected. I want him to remain focused on his studies.”

  I pushed my food around with my fork.

  “How are you feeling about everything?” said my father.

  I shrugged.

  “I’m very sorry this happened. I’m sorry for you and your mother. Despite what you might think, I do get great satisfaction out of being part of this family, of providing for you and making you and your brother and your mother as happy as I can. That will not change, though of course the details of our lives will be altered somewhat.”

  “Somewhat,” I repeated, a tiny zing of anger flashing in my chest.

  “Like I said, I will do my best to maintain things as they are.”

  I slipped into silence again. I had questions. I had things I wanted to say. But I had reached my limit of new information about the breakup of my family.

  “If you’re wondering what happened on my end . . . ,” my father said, clearing his throat. “I met someone. A coworker. I tried to be careful. I tried to not let it develop into something that would affect my family. But sometimes these things are beyond our control. Sometimes we can’t choose who we love and who we need to be with. At a certain point it becomes counterproductive to live a lie, or to pretend you feel one way when you actually feel another.”

  I nodded along with this. Not that I agreed. I just didn’t want to hear any more. I didn’t want to know my father’s opinions on love or being with someone or whatever the hell he was talking about.

  He talked more. It got pretty bad. I wanted to put my hands over my ears and start humming, but I couldn’t do that in the fancy restaurant. So I tried to think of other things. School. Photography. Anything. Then I found that if I focused on one spot on my plate, I could sort of disconnect in a way. I could put myself in a trance for a few seconds.

  “. . . I’ve contacted Clark Jennings,” my father was saying when I came back. “He’s an excellent divorce attorney. He’s an old friend. Your mother knows him. I know him. That’s another area where I hope we can reach a quick and mutually satisfactory . . .”

  I focused on a pea in my pasta and again tuned him out. It wasn’t that hard. It was like going dancing that night at Agenda. Turn your brain off and let the music take over. Become one with the parts of your environment that weren’t trying to destroy you.

  • • •

  I didn’t want dessert. My father signed the check. Walking out, he stopped to chat with the beautiful hostess. I didn’t stop. I just kept walking, no good-bye, no hug. I could not stand to be inside that place one more second.

  Outside it was dark, but it was downtown, so there were lights and people and cars on the street. I felt like I’d been holding my breath and now I could breathe. My father was still inside, and I started walking faster. Then I started running. I turned around the first corner I came to, so he wouldn’t see where I went.

  33

  After another week of this, my mom went to visit her sister in San Francisco for a couple days. “A vacation from my nervous breakdown,” she said as I drove her to the airport.

  When I got home, it was just me in that big house. I went inside, into the kitchen, and made myself a sandwich.

  I wasn’t used to being home alone. It was late, and there seemed to be a lot of spooky noises from whatever part of the house I was not in. So I locked all the doors and turned on the TV and left ESPN on, really loud, most of the night.

  The next night I felt more comfortable. I turned off the TV and put on music and turned it up loud so I could hear it throughout the house. I did a little homework upstairs and then got out the Canon and took some still shots in the kitchen, stuff that hadn’t moved since my dad left: an apple, a bottle of wine, my dad’s shoes, still sitting on the counter. I got pretty involved in this, and when I looked up it was two in the morning.

  • • •

  On the third night of being home alone I called Antoinette. I’d been updating her every couple days. She was a good person to talk to. Her parents had split up when she was eight. She’d had a stepdad for the last four years, who she referred to as “Bald Mike.”

  I invited her and Kai over. They came in Kai’s Subaru. Kai said, “Look at you and your fancy house!” as she walked in the door. That made me a little nervous. I wondered if she might steal something.

  Antoinette was more casual. She made herself at home. In the kitchen, she opened a bottle of wine, one of the nice bottles from the special rack of my dad’s. I hesitated when she first pulled it out, but when I told her it was probably very expensive, she was like, “You don’t understand, Gavin. You’re in payback territory now. If this is your dad’s most expensive bottle, then this is the one we’re drinking.”

  So we drank it. And then lay around in the living room and listened to music. I even let them smoke cigarettes in the house.

  “So Krista broke up with you?” Kai said to me. She was lying on the couch, her head on a pillow, blowing smoke toward the ceiling.

  “Yeah,” I said. “She dumped me for Tyler Young.”

  “And because your dad left,” said Antoinette. “Which was cramping her style.”

  “Really?” said Kai. “She broke up with you because your dad left?”

  “Krista doesn’t do family problems,” said Antoinette.

  “Oh my God,” said Kai. “Poor Gavin. And now she’s with Tyler Young? You know about him, don’t you? He’s seriously one of the dumbest people at our school.”

  “So I’ve heard,” I said.

  Kai smoked. She stared up at the ceiling. “I did shots with Tyler Young once. I literally thought he was pretending to be stupid. Like he was practicing for a play or something . . .”

  “Why were you doing shots with him?” asked Antoinette.

  “I don’t know,” said Kai, putting out her cigarette. She looked at me. “So what girl are you going to like now?”

  I shrugged.

  “Gavin doesn’t decide who he goes out with,” said Antoinette. “He lets other people pick his girlfriends.”

  “Really?” Kai said to me. “You let other people pick your girlfriends?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Yes,” said Antoinette.

  “Maybe with Krista,” I said. “She did make the first move.”

  “And Grace,” said Antoinette. “You didn’t pick Grace, and don’t pretend like you did!”

  “Who picked Grace?” asked Kai.

  “Hanna did,” said Antoinette. “And Claude. And the rest of them.”

  “The beautiful people,” said Kai, sighing.

  “Every school has them,” said Antoinette.

  “But you’re one of them,” Kai said to me. “So can’t you have any girl you want?”

  “I don’t think that’s how it works,” I said.

  “How does it work, then?” said Kai.

  “The problem with Gavin is,” said Antoinette. “He knows better.”

  “What do you know?” Kai asked me.

  “He knows how dumb those people are,” said Antoinette.

  “They’re not dumb,” I said firmly. “Trust me. Claude is not dumb. Hanna is not dumb.”

  “No,” said Antoinette. “But the ones who aren’t dumb are mean. And cruel.”

  “That might be true,” I said.

  “So that’s Gavin’s dilemma,” Antoinette said to Kai. “He knows the truth about his popular friends. But he’s afraid t
o give them up. Because he doesn’t know what lies beyond.”

  “What does lie beyond?” Kai asked.

  “Weird people,” said Antoinette. “People like us.”

  • • •

  We drank more wine and they smoked more cigarettes. Eventually they had to go. I walked them outside. It was raining, so we ducked our heads as we walked out to Kai’s car.

  “Thanks for having us over to your palatial mansion,” said Kai.

  “Thanks for your dad’s best bottle of wine,” said Antoinette.

  Kai gave me a hug, which I wasn’t expecting. I immediately wondered if I might get a hug from Antoinette, too, but she turned away and headed around the car to the passenger side.

  This left Kai and me standing together in the rain while Kai dug in her backpack for her keys. She couldn’t find them.

  “Kai?” said Antoinette, standing in the rain. “Can you hurry up please?”

  “Just a second!” said Kai. She finally found her keys and pushed the unlock button on her key chain. Antoinette got in on the passenger side.

  Kai looked back at me. In a low voice she said: “I know one girl you could like.”

  “Who?” I said.

  “Antoinette,” she whispered, watching my face.

  “No,” I said. “That would never work.”

  “Why wouldn’t it work?”

  “Antoinette and I are like matter and antimatter,” I said quietly. “If we got together the universe would implode.”

  “And that would be a bad thing?”

  “The universe imploding? Yes, that would be a bad thing.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I looked at Kai. I had never really spoken to her in confidence like this. “I’m pretty sure.”

  “Good,” she said. “So there’s some wiggle room.”

  Antoinette, still sitting inside the rain-blurred car, yelled at the two of us. “Kai! Can we go please! It’s cold!”

  Kai got in the car, started it up, and drove backward down the driveway, nearly hitting our mailbox. Finally, the car disappeared into the rainy night.