by Sandy Hall
“Cool.” I crack my knuckles and look around the room. I have no idea what to say, because suddenly everything I’ve wanted for the past month is coming true. I guess that fire in chem lab really was the sign I needed. “My parents are out for a couple more hours. Do you want to stay and hang out? Watch some TV?”
He closes the distance between us and I think he’s going to sit down, but instead he looks at me like he’s never seen me before. I’m really glad I brushed my teeth.
Our faces are close.
“What happens now?” he asks.
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen this episode.”
“No, I mean with us,” he says, smiling.
“Oh.” I glance away. “I guess we’ll find out.”
He chews his lip, and all I can think about is kissing him. It’s been building up inside of me for months, and I just know I need to get it out of my system. I need to go for it. I want to sit next to him on the couch, and I want our knees to touch. I want to remember that everything that happened last night and everything we said was real.
I put my hand on the back of his neck and pull him close, standing on my tiptoes to press my lips to his. It’s quick and dry and maybe not the most romantic or centered kiss that has ever passed between two people.
But it’s our first, and I immediately know that I don’t want it to be our last.
fifteen
Kyle
I spend most of the day on Sunday with my family, trying to get back on my parents’ good side after the whole English grade thing from the other day. I’m not technically grounded on weekends, but it seemed like they weren’t so much asking me to go to the movies with the family, as telling me I had to go along with them.
By the time I get home from family fun day, I’m sort of desperate to see Gideon. I don’t even bother going into my house before hopping the fence.
He’s sitting on his deck, reading a book. He doesn’t notice me at first, and I have this moment where I want to turn around and go home. I shove my hands into my pockets and swallow that feeling away. It’s Gideon. I like Gideon. A lot. In all different ways.
“The Great Gatsby,” I say, ambling up the deck steps and squinting at the title.
He shades his eyes in the glowing afternoon sun and looks at the book cover as if surprised to see that’s what he has in his hands.
“Yeah, I figured if I’m going to help you with your English paper this week, I need to refresh my memory on this book.”
He slips a bookmark between the pages before lifting his feet off the patio chair he had them propped on and offering it to me. I sit down and lean all the way back, feeling jittery and out of place.
This is where I should tell him what’s going on with the whole learning disability issue, but I have it stuck in my head that Gideon isn’t going to like me anymore once he finds out that I have this thing. Gideon is so smart. It’s not like he’s unaware that I’ve always been behind him in school. This isn’t some big secret.
I promise myself that I’ll tell him what’s going on as soon as it has a real name and definition. It’ll be easier to talk about.
“Um, don’t worry too much about the tutoring,” I say. “I’ll let you know if I need help. Gupta’s trying something else with me first, but I don’t really know if it’s going to work out.” I don’t really want to tell him what’s happening until I know for a fact that something is happening.
“Okay, well, let me know,” he says, shrugging. “What’s up?”
Words lodge in my throat. I planned a whole speech while I was out today and now the words have all disappeared.
“You look like you’re going to pass out,” he says, obviously trying to make a joke, as I really do feel like I might pass out.
I barely even hear him, because the words that I wanted to say are finally tumbling out of my mouth.
“Do you want to go on a date? With me? Next weekend?” I spit out the question and then have to take a deep breath to steady myself. A weird nervous shiver goes through my whole body. “I would say we should go during the week but I’m not allowed out on school nights until my grades get better.”
Gideon licks his lips, which is good because now I’m thinking about kissing him instead of the slow death by embarrassment that might be coming my way if he says no.
“I’ve been thinking about this a lot,” he says.
“Yeah, me too.”
“You really want to date me? Like, we’re best friends—what if we ruin everything?”
“You’re really worried about that?”
“Yes,” he says, his voice firm and sure in a way that mine never is.
“I would hope that we’re good enough friends that we kind of know what we’re getting ourselves into. It’s not like dating you is going to be some big shocking difference. We already spend a lot of time together.”
“What about when you and I leave for college? What then?”
“Oh, come on, Gideon. That’s, like, way over a year from now. Why are you even thinking like that? What about all the fun we could have between now and then?”
“We are going to have fun,” he says.
“Hell yeah.” I squeeze his knee.
I lean forward in my chair, finally feeling relaxed about the whole exchange, even if he still hasn’t given me a firm yes about going out on a date.
“And you’re sure Ruby is okay with all this?” he asks.
“Yes. Definitely. She told me that she’s going to tell everyone that she broke up with me, but what do I care?”
“She’s a little bit crazy,” he says.
“Maybe a little. I try not to judge. She’s got an image to uphold, apparently.”
His face cracks into the realest non-drunk smile I’ve seen from him in a long time.
“So, what do we do?”
“Well, first you probably have to say whether or not you want to go on a date with me someday. Don’t leave a guy hanging.”
“What’s this someday business? I thought you said next weekend?”
I frown at him.
“Fine, yes, I get what you’re saying,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I would like to go on a date with you next weekend.”
“Awesome.”
“But, like, are you…” He pauses and squeezes his eyes shut like the embarrassment of asking this question is too much to take. “Are you my boyfriend?”
“Only if you’re mine,” I say.
He leans his head back and smiles at the sky. “Obviously.”
I move my chair so we’re sitting next to each other instead of across from each other. “I also think we should kiss again sometime. Maybe.”
He side-eyes me. “Oh, I get it. You’re just here for these sweet, sweet lips.” He points at his mouth.
“You’re an idiot.”
“You’re a bigger idiot.”
He shifts in his chair, turning his body toward me, and then licks his lips again. I mirror him, right down to the lip licking.
When he presses his lips to mine this time, it’s different—not rushed, not too dry. It feels like we’re teaching each other something that we don’t have words for.
I turn my head a little to the side, and he sucks in a deep breath. He leans his forehead against mine.
“You okay?” I ask.
“That was, like, way better than last time.”
“Yeah, it’ll probably get even better the more we do it.”
“I can’t wait,” he says, leaning back in for more.
Gideon
Kyle and I spend the better part of an hour making out on my deck. If I wasn’t worried about my parents coming home any second, I would totally bring him up to my room because believe me, having those chair arms between us was the worst thing that ever happened in the history of making out.
“Mom called to say she’s bringing home Chinese food,” Ezra says, sticking his head out of the sliding door and ruining our fun. “Oh, hey there, Kyle. I didn’t know you were here.”
>
“He was just leaving,” I say, pushing on his arm as if I could throw him over the fence before my brother says anything too embarrassing. Hopefully, he’ll take the hint.
“No, I wasn’t,” Kyle says, pouting.
“I hear you broke up with Ruby Vasquez for Giddyup.”
“Um,” Kyle says. But before he can even answer, Ezra continues.
“Was that really the best idea? That chick is hot. She was a freshman when I was a senior,” he explains.
“’Cause that doesn’t make you sound like a creep,” I mutter.
Kyle scratches at the back of his neck and sighs, but at least he’s smiling. He’s very familiar with Ezra’s ridiculousness. “You know, she ended up breaking up with me, actually.”
“She’s smart. Getting rid of the deadweight,” Ezra says, punching Kyle in the shoulder playfully. Then he sits in one of the other chairs. I groan when Kyle settles back down.
“So, what are you still doing here?” Kyle asks.
“Isn’t that the ultimate question?” Ezra asks. “Who put us here? What is our earthly purpose?”
Kyle rolls his eyes and I sigh. “I guess you’re going to stick around for a while?”
“Indefinitely,” Ezra says.
Kyle’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he takes a quick peek. “I gotta get out of here. I’m not technically supposed to be socializing, since it’s a school night.”
I stand with him and grab his arm, planting one last hard kiss on his lips, in part because I can’t stop myself, but also because for some reason I feel the need to flaunt this new relationship in front of Ezra. He always had girls around. Now it’s my turn to have this boy around. This very cute boy.
Kyle leaves, and I turn my attention to my brother.
“So, that’s new,” he says.
I nod.
“What’s the deal?”
“Um, well, we’re dating. He came over to ask me on a date.”
“Where are you going?”
“Actually we never decided that part,” I say. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Well, good for you,” Ezra says. “You gonna tell Mom and Dad someday?”
I take a deep breath. “Soon.”
“Take your time. But you know they’re gonna be okay with it, right?”
“I keep telling myself that.”
“Well,” he says, standing up and patting my shoulder, “I’m telling you that, too.”
“Thanks.”
“Just let me know when you’re going to do it, so I can record Mom’s overly delighted reaction and make myself famous with the viral video entitled ‘Woman Loses Her Shit in a Good Way.’”
I’m trying to think of a comeback, but he’s already inside, turning the TV on to whatever reality show marathon he can find. Ezra loves reality shows.
sixteen
Ezra
“So you’re really going to tell them tonight, right?” I ask, barging into Gideon’s room a few nights later and sitting on his bed. We’re going out for dinner for our mom’s birthday.
He’s standing at his closet, looking at the same exact clothes he wears every day and acting like he’s going to find something new in there.
“Yeah,” he squeaks, sounding like someone just grabbed his balls.
“That’s awesome. I think it’s time.” Perhaps my unyielding support will help with the ball-grabbing situation.
“They’re not even gonna care, right?” he asks, turning to look at me, his face just as pinched as his voice now.
“Of course they’re going to care. They love you.”
“No, but they’re not going to disown me or something ridiculous, right? They’re not that kind of parents. I keep telling myself they aren’t, but what if they are?”
“Did they disown me?”
“No,” he says, plopping down on the bed next to me.
“And I can control what I did. I did it of my own choosing. You didn’t choose to be gay, and they know that. They’re super liberal about pretty much everything.”
“Except your tattoos.”
“Well, yeah, but have you noticed Mom hasn’t mentioned them once since I’ve been home? I think she’s really growing as a person.”
That gets a little smile out of him.
“I guess I’m also kind of worried that I’m getting all worked up about telling them and it’s just going to be this little blip. Like no big deal, this is our son now. Thank you for sharing, Gideon.” He says the last sentence in a pretty impressive impersonation of our mother.
“Obviously I have no clue how they’re going to react. I can speculate with you all day long, but I know I’ll never hit the nail on the head with them. They can be unpredictable, like every other person on earth.”
He nods.
“But one time Dad told me that he wasn’t so much disappointed in me for picking up and leaving the way I did as he was disappointed in the dreams he had for me. He was disappointed that he had been so narrow-minded when it came to what he wanted and expected of me.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“God, they never stop shocking me.”
“For real,” I say. “I don’t know that Mom sees it the same way, but that made me feel a lot better.”
“They’re pretty cool parents.”
“Way better than the Cunninghams.”
He stares at me blankly.
“You know, from Happy Days. The Fonz? ‘Ayyy,’ and all that stuff?”
“I know what you’re talking about, I just don’t know why you’re referencing such outdated pop culture.”
I shrug. “There was a marathon on one of those channels that no one ever remembers we get. Like channel 289. For future reference.”
“Thanks for talking this through with me,” he says.
“Yeah, no problem,” I say. “And just think, if they disown you, you and I can strike off together somewhere and live off the land.”
“You mean live off my bar mitzvah money.”
“Well, yeah, something like that.” I turn to leave.
“Wait, Ezra.”
I look at him, and his face is so open and innocent somehow. It reminds me of when he was little and would get in trouble for something dumb like pouring cereal all over the floor.
“I don’t want to pry and you don’t have to tell me, but did you run out of money?”
I stare at him for a second. Someone finally asked.
“Yes.”
He nods and chews his bottom lip.
“But it’s okay. I’ll figure it out. I’ll get back to it eventually.”
“That sucks and I’m sorry.”
“Thanks, Gid.”
Our mom yells up the stairs then to see if we’re ready.
“Guess it’s time to go,” he says.
The drive to the restaurant is uneventful and our table’s ready when we get there, so in no time we’re seated and a basket of bread is placed in the middle.
I reach for a roll and know immediately I should have buttoned the top button of my shirt.
“Is that another tattoo, Ezra?” my mother asks, a little too loud. “How many do you have now?”
“Oh, come on, Ma,” I say, buttering my roll. “I thought we’ve been over this. I thought you were okay with them.”
“What mother would be okay with her child graffitiing their whole body like that? Where do you think you’re going to be buried? No Jewish cemetery will take you.”
“Pretty sure that’s an old wives’ tale, Ma,” I say.
My father nods in agreement but doesn’t offer an opinion. I swear he fears her wrath almost as much as Gideon and I do.
Gideon
I honestly was hoping that the Ezra tattoo conversation would take up the whole evening and then I wouldn’t have to come out.
I can’t seem to stop moving. Every time I try to control one part of my body, it’s like the next part starts up. I go from tapping my foot, to bouncing my knee, to chewing my lip, to
rapping my knuckles on my chair.
My dad tells me to stop, and I do, for a few minutes. But then the cycle starts all over again.
After we order, he turns to me. “What is going on with you, Gideon? You’re like a whirling dervish over here.”
I rub my palms together. They’re slick with sweat.
“I know, I’m sorry.” I take one look over at Ezra, and he smiles encouragingly. “There’s just something I’ve been wanting to talk to you guys about.”
“Okay,” my mom says.
In the moment, I’m sure they think this is going to be about a college choice they won’t approve of or maybe a plan for my senior year schedule that isn’t optimal for my college applications.
“Well. It’s just … It’s that I’m gay.”
I look from my dad, slightly stunned, to my mom, a little confused, to Ezra, who’s giving me double thumbs-up like he’s the Fonz.
My dad is the first to break the silence. “Is that what you’ve been so nervous about?”
“Well, yeah.”
And then something completely bizarre and unexpected happens. My mother leaps up from the table and comes around to hug me. She squeezes my head and kisses my cheek.
“I am so happy for you, Gideon,” she says, in between kisses. “I was getting so worried that you didn’t show any interest in girls or anyone. I kept thinking you were going to end up alone.”
“Ma,” I say. “Ma.” I can’t stop smiling, I’m so relieved, but I’m pretty sure she’s going to choke me to death.
“I know,” she says without me even having to say anything else. She moves back around to her side of the table and sits down. She dabs at her eyes. “We’re in public.”
“So you’re okay with this?” I ask.
“Of course,” my dad says. “Why wouldn’t we be?”
“Some people aren’t,” I say with a shrug.
“We’re not that kind of people, Gideon,” my mom says. “We want you to be healthy and happy and mostly just not to die alone.”
Ezra rolls his eyes, but luckily she doesn’t see.
“Thanks, Ma,” I say.
“We should have a party.”
“A what?”
“A party. My friend Cheryl had one for her son when he came out of the closet. It was a good time.”
“How was Cheryl’s son ever in the closet?” my dad asks, mostly looking at Ezra, who shrugs.