A Not So Typical Love

by Tristen Rowen

  "I know," I said, just as exasperated. "But it's not like I'm some child molester. He is an adult, you know."

  "I know," she said. "Just saying."

  By the time we returned to the patio, I found Jordan conversing with my mother. "Jordan's just telling me all about school," my mother said. "He says he's a senior in college and graduating in the spring."

  "He's only nineteen," I said. "I doubt he's graduating."

  "I graduated from high school when I was sixteen," Jordan explained.

  "Really?" I said.

  "I skipped the fifth and seventh grades because I was bored," he said.

  "Oh..." was all I could say. I wasn't sure what else to say. Tim never told me any of this. Intelligence seemed to run in his family.

  "What's your favorite subject?" Liz asked.

  "Chemistry," he replied. "I'm supposed to take some classes on campus this year, but I don't know if that will happen."

  "Your favorite subject is Chemistry?" I said. "That was Tim's favorite."

  American Idiot

  Jamie

  My mother took a liking to Jordan and I really didn't blame her. She liked almost all of my girlfriends and boyfriends, not that Jordan was my boyfriend or anything. She liked Gavin the most, but from what I could see, she developed a quick love of Jordan. As far as I was concerned, he was definitely likable and lovable, even after he spit, bit, and kicked me. Jordan and my mother chatted back and forth for awhile. I could see how much he missed his mother.

  But, by 3:30, my mother started to fade and a new woman emerged, one Liz and I hardly recognized. The correct term to use was sundowning. That's when people with dementia become more and more confused, sometimes even agitated in the late afternoon and early evening. My mother kept getting up, looking for her car keys because she said she had to go "pick the kids up from school" even though Liz and I were adults. She no longer recognized me as her son or Liz as her daughter. It was a good thing my dad took the car and keys away from her, otherwise she'd be driving around town getting lost and posing a danger to herself and everyone else.

  "I have to pick the kids up from school," she said again and again. "I'm late. I have to go."

  "The kids are fine," my dad said calmly. "They're taking the bus home today."

  "No, I have to go," she said.

  "No, you don't," he said again.

  "Here," Liz said, holding a spoon of ice-cream in front of her. Liz hid a pill in the ice-cream. Sometimes she'd take it; sometimes she didn't and a battle would rage between my mother and Liz or whoever was trying to get her to take the pill. "Why don't you take Jordan home?" Liz said to me. Things were just about to get worse.

  "Yeah," I said. I knew better than to try and kiss or hug my mother goodbye as much as I wanted to. My eyes watered as Jordan and I walked out of the house.

  Unexpectedly, Jordan reached for my hand as my mother cursed at my dad and Liz inside. My mother did things and said things she never did before this nasty disease took over.

  “I'm alright," I assured Jordan even though I wasn't so sure.

  "What do you want to listen to?" he asked once in my car.

  "You're asking me what I want to listen to?" I said, genuinely touched by his offer.

  "Yes," he said.

  "Okay," I said, scrolling through my songs. "Okay. You're gonna love this." Within seconds, Green Day's American Idiot blasted from the speakers. Jordan's smile and head bob told me how much he liked the song. "I like Green Day," he said.

  "Should I add them to your playlist?" I asked.

  "Okay," he responded.

  By the time we got to the park, people were piling in. For such a small town, there were certainly a lot of spectators and vendors that supported the event. I, too, had fond memories of this event. My parents used to take us, but we never hung around with Tim and Jordan. Tim wouldn't let anyone near him. For all I knew, they hid in the corner of the park in case there was "a freak out."

  Jordan knew exactly where he wanted to sit and spread out a blanket. Instead of sitting down and relaxing, he took me around to all the different vendors that hadn't changed much over the past ten to twenty years. He bought a couple of glow and the dark necklaces: one for me and one for him.

  "Tim bought me one of those light-up swords once," he said, referring to the vendor with a bucketful of glowy things, all a huge rip-off if you asked me. "The stupid thing broke within a few minutes. I was so angry."

  "I bet you were," I said. As we made our way around the park, quite a few people said hi to Jordan. The town seemed to know him. Occasionally he'd wave, but he never said anything in return. He bought popcorn and cotton candy and then gravitated toward the Ritchie Slush vendor. He ordered a "blue one."

  "Want one?" he asked me.

  "No, thanks," I said, satisfied with my fresh-squeezed lemonade. With his blue slushy, we made our way back to the blanket. Even though the fireworks hadn't started yet, he put his blue headphones on to "block out the noise," he said. Leaning against me, he spoon-fed me some slushy whether I wanted it or not.

  Once his slushy was done, he relaxed on the blanket, scooting even closer to me, so close he sat between my legs, his back resting against me. We weren't doing anything wrong although a few people shot us some strange looks. I didn't want to move or change positions because I liked Jordan this relaxed, resting in my arms.

  All of his weight was against me. I'm in trouble, I thought to myself because I was head over heels for this kid. I was more into Jordan than the fireworks even though they were pretty good for such a small town. With my arms around him, he played with my fingers, tracing each one with his finger. I loved it. For a minute I thought Jordan had fallen asleep against me, but it turned out he was just really comfortable. As soon as the fireworks ended, we continued to sit like that, waiting for the crowd to disperse since everyone seemed to be leaving at the same time.

  When we returned to the house, we discovered it quiet and empty because Tim was at his girlfriend's house that he was trying to keep secret for some reason.

  "Tim's staying at a friend's house tonight," I said.

  "He's at a girl's house," he said. "I'm not stupid."

  "No one said you were." In the end Jordan knew all along. He was more perceptive than anyone thought.

  Jordan went looking for the special brownies and was disappointed that they were all gone. Tim had cleaned up everything before he left and obviously shared the special brownies with his guests.

  "Let's smoke and swim," Jordan said, which sounded like a good idea to me. Sitting on the edge of the pool, his legs dangled in the water as he lit up. I sat down beside him. "I think it's going to rain," he observed. "I'm going swimming before it starts." My eyes followed him as he got up to take off his clothes.

  While admiring his body, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was good enough and strong enough for someone like Jordan. He was so young and innocent; he wasn’t like most nineteen year olds. Not only that, I didn't want to go through something like Gavin again, not that I expected Jordan to die. I just hadn't felt anything like this since Gavin. I wouldn't be able to handle another loss. I started to think that maybe I should find another place to stay. I didn't know what to do.

  As much as I wanted to, I wasn't sure this was the best time to take off all my clothes to go swimming.

  "What's the matter?" Jordan asked from the water.

  "I don't know if I feel like swimming right now," I said. I had a feeling Jordan wasn't going to take "no" for an answer, swimming toward me. He pushed my knees apart and stood between them.

  "Come in," he said.

  "No," I said and kicked his shoulder playfully. He retaliated with a splash, leaving me soaking wet. I kicked him again. This time he grabbed my leg in mid-kick and held it tight. Standing against the edge of the pool, he looked up at me. "What?" I said.

  He didn't say anything, sliding each hand inside the leg of my shorts, all the way up.

  Oh no, Jordan…

 
Just as his hands were about to make contact with my growing hard-on that I couldn't will away, he abruptly backed away and pulled himself out of the pool, plopping down beside me. He was as hard as I was.

  "You need to stop," I said.

  "Stop what?" he said, playing dumb. By now he knew perfectly well what he was doing.

  "I think you know what," I said, looking down his body.

  "I can't help it," he said, standing up. "It happens all the time when I'm around you." He gathered up his clothes.

  "Jordan..."

  "Jamie," he said, climbing down the ladder, his clothes in one arm. I assumed he was going to jerk off somewhere.

  But I was wrong, finding him on my bed, sitting in his boxers, playing Green Day's American Idiot for the fifth time that day.

  "That's not really a lullaby," I joked. "I'm going to brush my teeth and go to bed. What are you doing?" He shrugged, lying down in my bed. That's what he was doing...sleeping in my bed again.

  Where is My Mind?

  Jordan

  Thunderstorms were always the best. I’d sit on Mom’s lap in the dark, listening to the thunder boom outside.

  “My mother always said it’s God bowling,” she said to me as I jumped in her lap after each boom. I must have been around five and she looked like a normal mom for once, her plain dark brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, no make-up, no dyed hair or leather skirts or fishnet stockings. She was in her pajamas, like me, since it was after nine o'clock at night. Art wasn’t home; in Alaska again. "Thunderstorms are always best with the lights off,” she said.

  At only five, I still believed monsters lived in my closet since that's what Tim told me and I believed him. I believed whatever Tim told me. I was also gullible and naive enough to believe that God was actually up there bowling. I wondered what else He was doing up there.

  Holding me in my arms, Mom sang the Beatles’s song, Rain, a song that instantly mellowed me out. While Mom was more of a punk rock fiend, every now and again she’d surprise us with other types of music and songs. She always knew how to calm me down. Standing by the window, Tim sang along. I always liked the way he sang.

  Ever since Mom showed me how to appreciate thunderstorms, they were always my favorite. After Mom went away, I'd either drag Tim outside or, if the storm was in the evening, I'd make him turn off all the lights in the house and we'd watch the lightning flash in the sky.

  Thunder boomed outside, followed by flashes of light. With all the intense heat and humidity, a thunderstorm was no doubt inevitable. To get a peek, I ran to the window, almost as excited as a kid on Christmas morning. Rain pounded the window, coming down in buckets. I returned to Jamie who slept soundly in bed.

  "Jamie, wake up!" I shouted, shaking him. "Come on. Let's go."

  "Go where?" he yawned.

  "Outside," I said.

  "But it's raining," he said. "It's pouring out."

  "Thunderstorms are the best," I said. "Come on. Let's go. Jamie, come on. Get up."

  "I should kill you," he said as I pulled him along by his wrist. "You're touching me," he teased. I had more or less grown accustomed to his teasing. As we made our way outside, I let go of his wrist and ran down the porch and out into the woods to go to my favorite spot. We were both in our bare feet and boxers, drenched to the skin within seconds.

  Spreading my arms, I gazed up and into the gray sky. The song Mom sang to me nearly fifteen years ago came to me and I sang the first verse aloud.

  “Do it like this," I said to Jamie who was just standing there, watching me. "Try it."

  Standing in front of me, he copied me, his arms wide open, looking up as the rain came down while I continued to sing. The rain beat down on me, thunder rumbling. Through most of my life, I never feared getting struck by lightning. As a little kid, it was the sound that frightened me more than anything else until I learned to appreciate it while believing it was really God bowling.

  There was nothing better than summer. Jamie stopped copying me and stepped into me, getting closer and closer as I continued to stare straight up into the rain and sky.

  He was so close to me, I could feel his breath against my face. I had come to really like being close to him. I liked it when we touched.

  Jamie's fingers trailed up my arms and around my fingers, then back up my arm again. The Rain song disappeared and another surfaced, bringing a smile to my lips. I wasn’t sure what possessed him to sing the Pixies’ song, Where is My Mind, but I liked it. Jamie ran his hand up my neck, singing. I wondered if he noticed the goosebumps on my arms. I sang the high pitched backing vocals of the song. "Ooo...oh."

  Together we sang quietly the title of the song, Jamie's fingers now gliding over my lips. His hands moved to the side of my head, his lips grazing my chin. My heart skipped a couple of beats, barely able to breathe yet I continued to sing the next lines. Jamie sang against my chin, his top lip clipping my bottom lip. My heart pounded so loud and heavy, I felt it in my throat. I brought my head down just enough to pair Jamie's lips with mine.

  The music in my head abruptly stopped, electricity of sorts running through my veins. Keeping my lips on his, I didn't freak out. No way. I liked this way too much. Cupping my chin, Jamie pressed his lips harder against mine. An unusual sound escaped my mouth, but I didn't pull away, wanting more. I had a strange desire to taste his tongue, to feel it against mine. Just as I tried, he pushed me away.

  "No," he said quietly, more to himself than to me. "I can't do this. I can't..."

  "Why?" I said. "Let's do it again."

  "I can't. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have." Even though he said no, I went to kiss him again. He stopped me, pressing a hand firmly on my chest. "This is all wrong."

  "Why is it wrong?" I asked.

  "You're a kid," he said.

  "Shut up," I said, shoving his shoulders. "Stop calling me a kid."

  "You're my best friend's little brother!" he shouted back at me, which was strange coming from him since he never raised his voice. It sort of sounded unnatural for him. "I can't do this!" I knew Tim and Jamie were friends, but I never considered them "best friends." He never came to our house, not since I was a little kid, anyway, which I barely remembered.

  "So what?" I shouted back. "He's not the boss of me. He can't control who I like."

  "I'm flattered you like me," he said, calming down. "I'm sorry I kissed you. I shouldn't have. I'm sorry for everything. Maybe I should leave before...before..." His voice trailed off as he touched my cheek with his fingertips. Bringing my hand to his, I guided his fingers to my lips, kissing each one of them. "Jordan," he said quietly. "Jordan..."

  "Jamie..." I said.

  He kissed my cheek, then hugged me, burying his head in my neck. The song popped back in my head, remembering Mom's voice as she sang Rain. Jamie squeezed me tighter, smiling against my cheek as I sang.

  Jamie pushed me away, resting his forehead against mine, lyrics flowing out of me. With our foreheads still pressed together, I changed my tune, returning to the Pixies’ Where is My Mind.

  Jamie interrupted the song with a kiss on my lips. I instantly kissed him back, parting his lips with my tongue. Our boxers were sopping wet, sticking to our bodies. I tugged at his shorts, pushing them down and just below his hips. I wanted to touch him and feel him against me. He backed away as my hand brushed over his crotch. I wanted to touch him so bad. So, so bad. Oh no, what'd I do now? I wondered as he straightened out his shorts.

  "What?" I said, my lips still tingling, my body warm all over despite the pouring rain. He shook his head. "What's wrong? I want to. I want..."

  "Come on, let's go in," he said, ignoring my comments. "Before you catch pneumonia."

  "I'm not going to catch pneumonia," I said. "Am I a bad kisser?"

  "No," he said. "Let's just go." As he went to touch my arm, I shrugged it away.

  "Fuck off," I said and ran away from him and back into the house.

  "Jordan!" he called after me. "Wait...Stop..." Ignoring him, I storme
d inside and went straight to my room, slamming my door to make sure he knew exactly how pissed off I was. He ran after me like he so often did. He knocked on my door over and over.

  "Jordan...Jordan, we can't do this. I'm sorry. I led you on. It's my fault. I'm sorry. We just can't. And I'm beginning to think maybe it's not such a good idea that I continue to stay here." I swung open my door, almost as furious as I was when I ruined my cheap earbuds in the wash. "It can't happen. I'm ten years older than you." So? I thought to myself. "I'm leaving in September and I'm going to be gone for ten months." So? "This is only temporary." Yeah, so? "I'm not the right guy for you." How did he even know that? I continued to glare at him, listening to his stupid rationales. "Tim would kill me." He paused, wondering what to say next, if anything. "Does he even know you're gay?"

  Gay? I never really thought about it...until now, anyway.

  "Tim still thinks I'm ten years old," I said, choosing not to answer his question because I didn't know.

  "It can't happen," he said definitively, but his eyes told me something different. I wasn't used to making such eye contact. His eyes were so very blue. Still, he pissed me off. Backing up, I slammed the door on his face.

  Rise

  Jordan

  While changing into some dry shorts in my room, I heard the shower turn on. I was so confused. I thought Jamie really liked me. All those things we did together...the pool and the meadow, the dancing in the kitchen, the brownies, and earlier today. He kissed me and I kissed him back. I touched him, too. Now he tells me he's leaving? I knew he was leaving in September, but it was only July and I liked him. I really, really liked him, and I didn't want him to leave. Not yet. I wasn't a kid and I was more than Tim Cameron's little brother.

  Fuming, I left my room and went to the bathroom. With my bare foot, I kicked the door as hard as I could and didn't care that it hurt. I kicked it again and again. The water instantly turned off and Jamie opened the door, dripping wet and holding a towel loosely around his waist. My heart skipped a beat seeing him like that. Face to face, I couldn't find the words I wanted to get out, more because of what was happening in my shorts.