by AnonYMous
Saturday, September 29
Tonight was one of those nights where everything starts out normal and then at a certain point it just leaves the reservation. Suddenly you’re hanging on for dear life, trying to get your horse to slow the hell down, but secretly loving the ride.
That probably makes zero sense. Let me see if I can even get it all down on the page.
Okay, first off, The Music Man was pretty great. I mean, not everybody was good in it, but luckily, Jon and Monica were awesome, and the band was solid too. Jon is incredible onstage. His voice is so big—even when he was singing softly, he completely filled the theater. Monica has a great voice too. When they sang “Till There Was You,” I looked over and my mom was actually crying.
So was I.
I hadn’t forgotten the ending of the show before I saw it again, but it was good to see it in context. Jon played a conman with a heart of gold who falls in love with the town librarian, played by Monica. Monica’s character (Marian) protects Jon’s character (Harold) from being found out by the authorities. He’s swindling all the parents in town to pay for instruments for their kids, and then he’s going to run out on them without teaching their kids how to actually play the instruments like he promised.
Something about meeting Marian and falling in love with her changes everything about him.
I’ve never seen a full musical live and in person before, let alone one that Jon was performing in. He has the instincts and skill of the very best quarterback who has ever played—only instead of running, jumping tackles, and throwing the ball, he’s singing, cracking jokes, and dancing. It was amazing to watch. I sort of forgot that it was him. He was like this different character—which I guess is the whole point of acting.
Then, when he kissed Monica and sang “Till There Was You,” all I could think about were those two times he looked right at me while he was singing that Boison song. I couldn’t help thinking that maybe he was singing these words from this song to me as well—even though he was looking at Monica.
It crashed over me like a wave—how much I liked Jon and how differently everything looked in my life since he’d shown up in English class that first week with wet hair and handed me a pen. Maybe there really had been love all around me, but I’d never noticed it “till there was Jon.”
Hahahaha! God, so cheesy, I know! I should just burn this journal right now.
I mean, what is wrong with me? Whatever. I can’t help it. I sat there tonight with tears in my eyes listening to Jon sing. I was scared shitless that my dad would turn and look at me and see that I was about to cry. But he didn’t. In fact, he was nodding off. Dad wasn’t so thrilled about going to see a musical in the first place. He and Mom had taken me and Tracy out for Italian food before the show. He’d had at least three glasses of wine, and Mom had wound up driving the car to the theater.
Afterward, when the final song died away and the curtain came down, the whole crowd jumped up and clapped and cheered. When Jon came out for his bow, he was smiling and he waved up at the balcony, then looked right at where I was sitting and bowed. I don’t know if he could actually see me or not, but it looked like he winked right at me when he bowed.
Afterward we went for dessert at this milk shake place that’s open late. It’s sort of like a fifties diner, with these huge booths and a soda fountain. We all slid around one that had seating on three sides of the table. Somehow Jon and I managed to land next to each other in the booth, with Monica on one side and Amy on the other. Tyler and Erin were there, along with my mom and dad, Monica’s uncle Brent, and her mom, Barbara.
Once we were all sitting down, we ordered enough ice cream and milk shakes to sink a ship. Then Monica made introductions.
“Good to see you again.” Brent smiled at me. “Been checking on the games since I was here. Nice passing record.”
“Just gotta get him signed to Oklahoma,” Dad jumped in.
“Where the wind comes sweeping down the plain,” Brent quoted.
“ ’Scuse me?” said Dad, confused.
Jon smiled. “It’s a lyric. From the musical Oklahoma.”
“That’s the show Brent did his senior year in high school,” Barbara said.
“When God was a young boy,” Brent joked. “Enough about ancient history.”
The waiter appeared with our milk shakes in all sorts of crazy flavors. Brent raised his glass and proposed a toast: “To Monica and Jon! The stars of the show!” There were general hoots and shouts and whistles. Then everybody started talking at once.
Brent leaned over to Jon. “You killed it up there, man.”
“Thanks,” said Jon.
“Acting isn’t easy. You have to really know who you’re singing to in order to make musical theater work like that.”
“I meant every word.” As Jon said this, I felt his hand slide over my knee under the table. I could feel my cheeks get warm, but I just smiled and put an arm around Monica.
“And you,” I said to her. “You were amazing.”
“No, you are amazing,” she said. “Those flowers you got me were gorgeous! They were the nicest flowers anybody got in the whole cast!”
“I dunno,” said Jon. “I got some pretty cool flowers too.” He smiled at Amy when he said this, but of course, she had no idea what he was talking about.
“That’s so nice!” she said. “Who got them for you?”
I looked at Erin and gave her big wide eyes. Don’t. Say. A. Word. She smiled and blushed, but she didn’t blow my cover. Note to self: Never play cards on a team with Erin. Zero poker face.
Jon smirked at Amy, thinking she was playing coy, and shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps I have a secret admirer.”
“You both deserve all the flowers you can carry,” Mom said from over her chocolate malt. “I mean, my goodness, Boyd, didn’t you just think Monica and Jon had the best chemistry onstage?”
Dad barely grunted as he slurped down his strawberry milk shake. Musicals were not his thing. This was clear.
“Well, thank God Jon showed up this year,” said Monica. “Otherwise, I’d have gotten stuck with Bobby Crenshaw. That would’ve been a nightmare.”
The minute she said his name, Tyler snorted with laughter. “That little faggot couldn’t act like he was into you if you paid him a million dollars.”
When he said the word “faggot,” it was like someone had dropped a hydrogen bomb in the middle of the table. Barbara gave him a frosty glare, and I saw Brent’s eyes narrow, but just for a second. Jon slowly pulled his hand off my knee under the table, as I felt Monica almost come out of the booth across the table.
“God, Tyler. You’re such an idiot,” she said. Loudly. Very loudly. I put a hand on her shoulder.
“Why?” he challenged her. “Because I’m the only one here who doesn’t think musicals are the highest form of entertainment in the world?” He turned to look at Brent. “How many musicals did you do in college, anyway?” he asked with a sneer.
Brent smiled at him and crunched a piece of ice from his glass of Coke before he answered. “All the musicals were in high school, actually,” he said. “Didn’t have time to do any more after I got to Ole Miss. Full-ride football scholarship takes up a lotta time.”
Tyler frowned. “You played football for Ole Miss?”
“All-American running back, all four years.” Brent wasn’t flustered by Tyler at all. I was about to crawl out of my skin.
“No fooling!” said Dad. “I remember seeing you on TV. Brent . . . Nichols?”
Brent smiled. “That’s me.”
“Well, Barbara, you didn’t tell me you had football royalty in the family.” Mom smiled and winked. “Now, tell me, Brent. Are you married?”
“Actually, no. Just broke up with my boyfriend.”
If the bomb had been dropped earlier, this was the explosion that set the room on fire. I pictured a mushroom cloud over our table as my dad stared into his empty glass like it was his job. Tyler snorted again.
; My mother had not expected this, but there’s something about Southern women: They are never at a loss for words, especially not when it comes to being gracious in an awkward social situation. She shot Tyler a look that could’ve wiped out a continent and then turned to Brent with her best church smile. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Now, what is it that you do for work, Brent?”
“Pharmaceutical sales,” Monica piped up.
“But I really miss being in musicals,” said Brent with a breezy nonchalance. He seemed to be perfectly at ease with this conversation even though the rest of us were dying. “Monica, maybe next summer when you’re home from college we should find a summer stock company and audition.”
“Do you miss playing football?” Tyler sneered.
This time Brent laughed. I was shocked. He actually looked like he was enjoying himself. He looked at Tyler and raised his eyebrows. “Do you?”
Tyler turned red in the face. “Oh, I’ll be playing again. My physical therapist says I’ll be off these crutches end of next week, God willing.”
Brent’s smile stayed in place, but there was a cold snap in his eyes. “And is God . . . willing?” he asked Tyler.
“He sure is happier about me playing football than he is about you playing around with dudes.”
Brent laughed hard at this comment. “Dunno about that, Tyler. I’m in the College Football Hall of Fame for rushing, and you’re . . . well . . . you’re in physical therapy. If we’re looking at what makes God happy, you might want to rethink some things.”
Brent stood up and leaned down to give Monica a kiss on the cheek. “You were a superstar tonight, sweetheart.” He reached across me and stretched out a hand to Jon, who smiled up at him and shook it. “And you, sir, rendered me speechless. Best night at the theater in a long time.” He squeezed Barbara’s shoulder. “I’ve already covered the check with the waiter, Sis, so my treat.”
Brent started to leave, but he turned around and smiled right at me. “Congrats on the season, man. USC is lucky to have you.”
My stomach dropped as my dad’s head popped up. “USC?” He looked at me. “What is he talking about?”
I shrugged and stammered. “I . . . I don’t know. . . . I mean, they offered, and . . .”
“And you committed on Wednesday.” Brent held up his phone. “They tweeted it earlier. Way to go, man. Get outta here while you can. Cali is a step in the right direction.”
Then he was gone.
There was silence around our table as everybody stared at me. Just as my dad started to open his mouth, I felt Jon slide his hand back onto my knee. I held up my hand to stop him. “Dad. It’s done. I’m committed.”
It was the first time I’d ever actually stood up to him, and I was sitting down in a booth with Monica on one side, her arm wrapped through mine, and Jon on the other, his hand firm on my leg. I never realized how much strength I take from my friends. Without them, I don’t know how I would’ve survived that moment. I don’t think I’d have had the courage to stop the tongue-lashing before it began.
After a moment, Mom dove in again. Gotta love a good hostess. Never let the conversation die. “Well, boys. It’s about that time of year,” she chirped. “Tyler, are you getting excited about the big hunting trip next month?”
Tyler shook his head and glanced up at her. “No, ma’am,” he said. “Won’t be able to make it this year.”
“Well, surely you’ll be off your crutches by then,” Mom said.
“Yes, ma’am, but I’ll be in physical therapy hard-core for the next few months. If I want a shot at getting my scholarship offer reinstated, I have to be in the best shape of my life in the spring.”
“We don’t have to do the trip this year.” My dad sounded like a man who was lost in his own country.
“Nonsense,” my mom clucked. “Jon, you’ll have to go this year. You can take my bow if you want to.”
I tried not to look at Tyler’s face, but I saw him roll his eyes.
Jon glanced at my dad. “Well, if you guys want me along, I’m happy to join you.”
“Sure thing,” I said. “It’ll be fun.”
Dad looked at me blankly. I smiled to encourage him. He nodded. “Sounds great,” he said. “I’ll see if Randall and the guys from the crew want to come along too.”
Monica wrinkled her nose and pecked me on the cheek. “You’re on your own, smelly boys. Sleep in tents. Kill beautiful animals. Amy and I will be camping out in my living room that weekend.”
Barbara smiled. “Lifetime movies and pedicures for all. Erin, you’re welcome to join us whether Tyler goes off into the woods or not.”
The girls talked about planning that weekend until we headed home. I don’t remember anything else that was said. All I could hear were the words “Cali is a step in the right direction.” All I could feel was the heat of Jon’s hand on my leg.
When we left the restaurant, Jon offered to take Monica and Amy home, and I jumped in with them. We dropped the girls off first, then drove toward my place. Instead of heading up the hill, toward the neighborhood, Jon steered us down to the park by the bridge over the dam. Technically, the parking lots are closed at dark, but he pulled off on a wide shoulder down past the bridge and turned off his lights.
He had the top off his Jeep, and in the quiet you could hear the water rushing by. We sat there really quietly for a little while, just watching the lights and listening to the water.
“Thanks for the flowers.”
I looked at him and smiled in the dark. The light from the bridge and the moon shone back at me in his eyes. “How’d you know?” I asked. I could barely talk. Something about sitting there had me totally turned on.
“Oh, c’mon. Who else was gonna give me flowers and not leave a note? Then Amy asked who gave them to me, and Erin almost had an aneurism across the table tonight.”
“I just . . .” I was blushing, and I didn’t know what to say. Did he think they were lame? That it was too girly or something? I thought about standing up to my dad. Talking to Jon was way easier. I just had to find my voice. “I just wanted you to know that I was thinking about you.”
Jon didn’t say another word. He unbuckled his seat belt, opened his door, and grabbed the roll bar, swinging all six feet, three inches of himself over the side of the Jeep and into the backseat. I looked back, and he patted the seat next to him.
“C’mere.”
I followed.
We kissed for a long time. Jon pulled me down on top of him, and we were pressed tightly against each other, the force of our legs and arms pulling tighter, our hips grinding into each other, until I couldn’t tell where he stopped and I started. We got lost in each other.
It’s funny, I don’t remember getting lost when I was making out with Monica. I was always wondering if I was doing it right, or thinking about how wet my face was getting, or worried about squishing her if I rolled over the wrong way.
I don’t think about any of that when I’m making out with Jon. I don’t think about anything. It’s all I can do to remember to keep breathing, and sometimes I forget to do even that. Every once in a while one of us would pull back, sort of gasping for breath. One time when this happened, Jon pushed me back, and we both sat up. I hopped up and sat on the back of the backseat, pulling off my shirt. It was sweaty, and I was having a hard time catching my breath.
Jon kneeled on the seat in front of me and wrapped both arms around my waist. He laid his head against my chest, and I pulled him close, running my fingers through his wavy hair.
“I can hear your heartbeat,” he whispered. “It’s like a bass drum.”
I bent down and pulled his face to mine. I kissed him gently on the forehead. He smiled and started undoing my belt, slowly pulling open the buttons on my jeans one at a time.
“Monica was wrong.”
“About what?” I whispered. I was shaking all over as Jon slid my jeans down.
“I got the nicest flowers in the whole cast. Tulips are my favorite.”
“Oh yeah?” I could barely speak. I kept my eyes glued to Jon’s as he ran his hand down the front of my underwear.
“You know what’s better than roses on your piano?” he whispered.
“What?” I choked.
He smirked as he pulled down my boxers. “Two lips on your organ.”
I started to laugh, but Jon turned my laughter into a gasp. I saw stars. I’m not sure if they were actual stars, or just ones in my head, because my body felt so amazing. I’m not sure what I saw or exactly how Jon did what he did. I just know that he was really good at it. There were definitely no mishaps that involved teeth, and by the time he dropped me off here a few minutes ago, neither one of us had blue balls.
Sunday, September 30
Pastor Colbert’s sermon today is called “God Hates Sin.”
He’s talking about how much God loves sinners but hates the sins they do. I feel like he’s talking directly to me, like somehow he saw me and Jon last night. It’s weird. I’ve never really thought about God having a problem with me—or anything that I do, really. I’ve always been way more afraid of people. Maybe it’s because God is this sort of abstract concept—this big presence up in the sky someplace who supposedly sees and hears everything, but what does he actually do about it?
What Brent said to Tyler last night about rethinking who God was happy with—that sorta stuck in my head. How do we really know who God is “happy” with? Pastor Colbert seems to be the one who is most upset to me. He’s all red in the face again. He just spouted out this long list of the people who make God mad: atheists, people who have abortions or vote for abortion or support abortion, homosexuals. . . . The list went on from there, but that’s when I stopped listening.
I keep replaying what happened last night in Jon’s Jeep, and I know I’m on Pastor Colbert’s list now. I’m one of the people who makes God mad. It makes me feel terrible about liking Jon so much. How can it make God mad that we’re into each other? How is what we’re doing hurting anybody else? Or God, for that matter?