Our Demented Play Date

by Kat Fletcher

  My mom stares at the floor and agitatedly fidgets with her fingers. “I think you just did.”

  “In a way.”

  She glances up with a slight grin, but doesn’t quite meet my eyes. “‘In a way’ was more than I probably needed to know.”

  “It’s not really a sex thing mom. I mean, Rach is super hot,” my mom kind of appears like she’s got indigestion when I say that, “but it’s the way she makes me feel. You know she dresses really cool and all that and it’s kind of amazing. But then, when we’re together, there’s this little glimpse of herself that she only gives to me. A little joke or smiling at a goofy thing that she’s too cool to think is funny, except when it’s between the two of us.”

  “Now that I understand,” she says, then raises her eyes for just a second. “No, I really don’t, I guess, because I understand it with guys, but not girls.” She laughs. “Maybe it’s the same. But here’s the thing. It’s not my job to understand. My job is to trust that you feel the way you say that you do and love you for it. Carol will remember that. It might take time, but she’ll come around.”

  * * *

  The sun is making its way down toward the horizon when my dad puts the plate of steaks onto the picnic table. The appealing smell of food is fighting with how pissed off and alone I feel for control of my emotions. I’ve spent the whole day waiting for a message and now I’m starting to get freaked out.

  Worse, she’s a two-minute walk away. I can see the house from upstairs through the window in the bathroom. And yes, I’ve checked. More than once. Just before I got called down for dinner, I checked and their car was still there.

  So close, but if I try to march on down, my parents will freak. They keep making stupid comments. “Be patient.” “It might take a while.”

  How long is a while?

  Well, it’s too long.

  All because of Homophobic Mom from Hell.

  My mom puts a baked potato on my plate and heaps some salad into a bowl like I’m some kind of little kid who has to be served. Maybe she’ll cut the steak too.

  Ugh. I’m being so bitchy and I know they’re doing their best and want me to have something on my mind other than sulking. It’s just that it’s been—I look at my watch—it’s seven, that makes it ten hours and I’ve sent her like a hundred messages, and she hasn’t answered a single one.

  My phone beeps with an incoming message and I leap at it. I know it’s probably Sierra or Justin checking in on me, but I hold my breath as I swipe to unlock it.

  It’s Twitter, so not Rachel. Sierra got me using Kik to message and I got Rach on it. Most of my friends either use that or Snapchat. I only do Twitter if I want something to be public, like when I came out.

  “News?” my mom asks.

  “No,” I sigh. It’s a direct message which probably means its someone being a jerk.

  “Sierra?” my dad asks.

  “No,” I snap. “It’s some random person. I’m tired of people adding me and sending me crap. I’m going to tell him to fuck off.”

  “Sarah…” my mom clucks in her don’t-use-bad-language voice.

  I open the Twitter app and get ready to let loose, but it’s not what I thought.

  The name I don’t recognize, but relief washes over me when I read the content. Hey, this is Rach.

  OMG I reply. Are you OK?

  Mom took phone and laptop cant txt or kik, she writes.

  How you tweeting then?

  Epic mom tech fail. Kindle has wifi and browser. It sucks, but it can do Twitter.

  I miss you so much. This doesn’t cut it, not even close, but I have no idea how I can express how I feel in one hundred and forty characters. Actually. I do know, but even with all this going on, I’m not willing to go there yet.

  Miss you too this sucks

  “Please say hello to Rachel for me,” my mom remarks dryly.

  “Huh?” I look up. “How did you know it’s her?”

  “It’s not hard to tell honey. It’s the first time you’ve smiled all day.”

  My dad watches me, curious as to what’s going on. How does he work with Rach’s crazy mom? I guess I should be glad he does or I’d never have met her, but I’m like at a loss.

  “Her mom took her phone, but she has another thing to message on,” I mumble while typing my response. I could tell them the whole Kindle story and it’s kind of funny, but I’m not sure I trust them not to tell her mom.

  Are you ok? I ask.

  Everything’s normal or we’re supposed to pretend it is, she replies, closely followed by Mom coming. Gotta go.

  I put the phone down and, realizing I’m starving, I tear into the steak.

  Chapter 18

  I finally give up on sleep. My iPad isn’t on the nightstand and I realize I fell asleep reading. Rachel recommended the book, Three Point Shot. It’s about a girl desperately in love with her straight teammate on the high school basketball team. Of course the girl isn’t straight, but she doesn’t know that. I like it, but I don’t like it at the same time because it reminds me too much of the first few days when Rach and I were hinting around the whole me being gay thing. I try to imagine her playing on the basketball team and the only thing more absurd is me being on it too. Plus, I think Rach said Valley doesn’t have sports teams. Maybe they do Quidditch or something like that?

  Six o’clock in the morning and there’s nothing new from Rach since dinner. My parents still aren’t awake, or at least I can’t hear them downstairs. Seriously, why would they be awake this early on vacation? I’m tired and contemplate coffee, but making it myself seems like an impossible chore. Make coffee or wait for the ‘rents to do it? I send. Yeah you’re right. Make it. Coffee is priority, I respond to the reply she never actually sent.

  Just two days ago, I could just walk over and she’d have an espresso for me.

  After setting up the machine to go, I turn back to the iPad. Coffee brewing, I send to Rach, then I pull up the group chat that I have with Justin and Sierra. Anyone up? There’s no response so I add Vid me when you can, then grab a cup of the now-finished coffee and head outside to sit on the patio.

  The weather is nice, which irritates me. Does it ever rain here? There was that one day, but that was it. It’s not natural. The day is just cool enough to make the hot coffee taste really good and I sit and try to get on with the book I’m reading, but eventually just stare off at the sky, aimlessly watching the sea gulls soaring over the beach.

  It startles me when my ringtone starts to play from my iPad, its volume still turned all the way up from where I left it overnight. It’s Justin. I click to pick up the vid while trying to turn the sound down with my other hand.

  “Hey babe,” his picture appears on the screen. His hair is mussed and he’s wearing a crumpled T-shirt, so I’m guessing he just got up.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “You heard from Rach yet?”

  “Not since last night. I stayed up waiting.”

  “Moody girl sitting next the phone waiting for a phone call? This could be an old black and white sitcom. You’re slipping,” he jokes.

  I’m not sure what it is about Justin, but he has this ability to say things that shouldn’t be funny, but are. His lame joke is enough to push a little grin onto my face. Not a big smile. Just a smirk. And just barely. “Yeah, but if it was a 1950s sitcom and I was waiting for that call from Rachel, they’d send me to a hospital for unnatural urges.”

  “I’m fond of my unnatural urges,” he smiles.

  “I’m getting pretty fond of mine. I just want to talk to the person I act on them with.”

  “She’ll be cool. I got a feeling,” he says reassuringly and nods his head on the screen.

  It’s always amazing how Justin can turn on a dime from his usual joking self into serious mode. I don’t think I can pull that off and wonder how he manages. I don’t ask though. Instead I reply, “Hope so.”

  “Any plans for the day?”

  “Moping. Waiting for a messa
ge. Maybe crying later,” I say, realizing I’m only a tiny bit away from crying right now. “Worried about her. Plus, she was the only thing interesting and now it all makes me think of her. I look at the couch and think about when we fell asleep on it. I sit in bed and…”

  “Hey, gay here. Don’t need girl details,” he interrupts jokingly.

  “You weren’t going to get any,” I say with mock sternness. “I was going to say in bed where we kissed.”

  “So there was more than kissing?” His voice is sincere if curious.

  “There was a lot more than kissing,” I admit. I wonder if the camera is good enough in this light for him to see me blushing.

  “Go you,” he says casually.

  “Thanks,” I reply, still embarrassed.

  * * *

  The message finally comes around noon. Can you be at Clam Basket in 15 minutes?

  Anywhere if you’re going to be there, I reply.

  CU Soon.

  My parents went out to lunch, but I begged off, so there’s no car to borrow. It’s a pretty long walk, or at least it was in the dark. I kick off the flip flops I’m wearing, put on sneakers, then rush out and down to the beach. I hope I can remember where that path is. I was following Rachel and pretty much only paying attention to her at the time.

  Maybe it’ll be more obvious in the daylight.

  As usual, this part of the beach is empty, which turns out to be fantastic because there’s only a few people to see when the sand shifts under my foot and I take a header face-down into the hot sand. I knew it was hard to walk in the sand, but it’s exhausting to run. Let’s be honest, I’m also not the sportiest person in the world. I take a moment to figure out if I’m okay and see a gull looking quizzically at me. It cocks its head sideways like it’s mocking me, then flies off. Pulling myself to my feet, I shake off the sand as well as my embarrassment. Thank God, I can already see the little woods where the path is. It’s more than obvious in the daylight.

  I pull out my phone and strain to see it in the sun. Ten minutes. That means no problem making it, so I slow down and take my time once I reach the path, and soon the parking lot comes into view.

  The parking lot with my parents’ SUV in it. I cannot catch a break.

  I scan the picnic tables and there they are, right outside, little cardboard containers of fish and chips in front of them. I did tell my mom about it, so my fault I guess. How was I going to know she’d decide the least convenient time in all of human history would be the right one for her to get her clam roll on?

  I can’t stand here in the bushes at the end of the trail forever, so I head in and the weirdest thought comes into my head. What would Doctor Who do? He’s not intimidated by anything. If the Doctor’s police box appeared in the parking lot of a clam shack on Cape Cod during the lunch rush, he’d just head straight in with a big smile on his face like it was something that happened every day. So that’s exactly what I do.

  “Hi,” I say, my voice perky as I come up to my parents.

  “Sarah?” my mother says in confusion. “How did you know we were here?”

  “Didn’t. Rach and I are meeting. Have you seen her around? I don’t know how long she has.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” my dad says, shaking his head. I wonder to myself what he’s thinking. To me, Rach’s mom is just the cray lady, but he and the other partners have given her a huge promotion and I know he respects her.

  “I take it Carol doesn’t know you’re going to be here?” my mother asks, raising an eyebrow.

  I purse my lips for a moment and feel a guilty flush come through my face. The Doctor. Channel the Doctor, I tell myself. “No, and it would probably be best for everyone if nobody told her.”

  That puts it all out there. They are either going to have to side with me or Rach’s parents. I’m pretty sure my mom is on my side. I hope my dad is.

  “I think you’re right about that,” my dad says, nodding sagely.

  Right now, I love my parents so much. They are going to lie to another adult for me. Should I thank them? No, I decide. That would be a little too awkward and a little too desperate.

  “Hey Sarah,” Rach says from behind me, startling me out of my astonishment.

  I spin around and throw my arms out, wrapping her in a huge hug. As I burrow my face into her shoulder and neck, it’s like all the tension is flowing down out of me, into the gravel, and disappearing in the earth.

  After a moment of holding each other, she steps back and assures me, “It’s okay. Don’t worry about me. My mom’s just being a freak. It’s not like they’re sending me to reform school or something.”

  “Well I’m sure you two want some time together,” my mom says, reminding us that we’re ignoring them.

  “Yeah. Sorry,” I grin back.

  “It’s nice to see you,” Rach says politely. “And thanks for helping. With my ‘rents.”

  We head to the window and she pulls out a list. “Sorry, I managed to talk them into letting me pick up lunch, but I have to head back as soon as it’s ready.” She puts the order in at the window and pays and we step back and wait, shuffling our feet and sneaking glances and grins.

  “So what’s going on?” I ask.

  “Well, the Momster gave up on giving me excuses, so now we’re all pretending like it’s a normal vacation except I can’t have my phone or leave the house without permission. And getting together with you is obviously way off the fucking table. I can hear them arguing in their bedroom. I’ll bet they’re going at it now. My dad is trying to reason with her, but it’s like she’s fucking possessed or something.”

  “You sound like you’re doing better?” my voice trails off in a question. She doesn’t answer at first, so I take her hand, “Are you?”

  “I guess,” she says as she caresses my fingers. “I just keep thinking about what I did wrong. I did the whole coming out scene two years ago. The amount of rainbow crap that I wear and have in my room is kind of embarrassing. Two fucking years ago. What else was she looking for?” she motions with her hands. “I’m gay and everyone knows it,” her voice is getting louder and earns us a stern look from an older woman in a faded sun dress and an even more sour look when I smirk at her reaction.

  “Your parents aren’t going to rat us out are they?” she asks, motioning back at their table.

  “Nah,” I say with more assurance than I actually feel. “They asked, so I told them that your mom doesn’t know we’re meeting. We all agreed it was best if it stayed that way. My mom doesn’t show it, but she’s annoyed. My dad,” I pause wondering how to put this. “I don’t know what my dad thinks. He likes you and he thinks its great we’re going out, but now with your mom spazzing, I think he’s embarrassed because he works with her.”

  “Number twenty-seven,” a voice calls out from the window.

  Rach glances down at the receipt. “Twenty-eight, I’m next, then I got to go or it’ll get cold.”

  “That sucks,” I whine.

  “Yeah. I’ll figure something out. We still have four more days and it’s only like twenty minutes’ drive between Sumner and North Ridge.”

  “I don’t know if I can take another four days of Cape Cod without you,” I say.

  “Number twenty-eight,” the voice calls out and we look over where the woman is pushing a large bag through the window.

  “Fuck,” Rach says and walks over to pick it up.

  We don’t say anything as we walk to the car. She puts it in the back seat then leans back and looks at me. “I miss you.”

  “Miss you too.”

  “You’re right. This sucks,” she says and gives me a kiss on the cheek. I decide I don’t care who sees what and I put my arms on her hips and pull her close in and press my lips against hers. It feels so perfect and so right and so short.

  Chapter 19

  Victory! Phone privileges restored, she messages.

  Fantastic!

  Phan Phucking Tastic, she sends back along with an emoji of a cr
itter with a rainbow rising behind her or it or him or whatever it is.

  What U doing today?

  Dad and I going out, she messages back. Both of us need time away from The Momster.

  He the one who got the phone back 4U?

  Yah and she’s making him pay. What about U?

  Just about to leave on lighthouse patrol with mom, I send back.

  LOL mom not seen enough of em?

  Joking. We’re getting lunch.

  “Sarah,” I hear my mom call from downstairs. “Are you almost ready to go?”

  I pick up the phone and head down, trying not to fall down the stairs as I message back, Mom wants to get going.

  Weeps

  “You’re sure you don’t want to come Mike?” my mom asks.

  “No, you two girls have a good time, I’m going to sit on the back deck with my book and a cold one,” my dad replies. A cold one? Really? Mr. Intellectual Property attorney is talking about a cold one? Maybe there’s something at the law firm that’s turning them all crazy like in some weird 80s horror movie.

  “Do you want to drive?” my mom asks.

  “Are you serious?” I ask, astonished. “I don’t even have to beg? What have you done with my real mom? You’re like clones created by an alien race and The Doctor and Clara are going to pop out of the kitchen and reveal the truth.”

  “I have no idea what you just said,” my mom shakes her head, laughing. “Are things better with Rach?” my mom asks as we head out the door.

  “She got her phone back.”

  “Good. You see, I told you it’d be fine. You’ll be back together before you know it.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Well, I was on the internet…”

  “And that’s always a dangerous thing,” I interrupt.

  She gives me a gentle frown from the passenger seat. “As I was saying. I found a little place on the internet downtown if you don’t mind a drive.”

  “Driving Is Us,” I reply.

  “Before we go. How are you doing? Really?” she asks, her face serious.