by Andrea Wolfe
I asked my parents at dinner one night, and the mere idea shocked them.
"The Evans? They're happily married," my dad, Brian, said. "I haven't heard a thing. They sure looked happy at church last week." He worked for the chamber of commerce, so he was definitely up to date on local gossip.
My mom, Carolyn, said the same. She hadn't heard anything at the insurance agency where she worked either.
A few days after asking my parents, Jesse showed up at my locker, something he rarely did, even when we were on good terms. "Naomi," he said quietly.
Surprised, I almost dropped my books on the floor just like what had happened with him. "Jesse, hey," I muttered. "What's up?"
His expression was vacant. "Listen, what do you think of me? Like what do you really think of me? I know I've been weird lately, but I need to know." He stood like a statue, towering over me, his books clutched across his chest.
I nervously bit my lip. The moment felt extra sensitive for obvious reasons, so I proceeded with caution, intending to be extra nice.
"I think you're a great guy and you've been my best friend for a long time. And I'm really thankful to have you as my friend. You've always been there for me." I paused for a second, giving him a chance to speak, but he didn't say anything. "And I don't want to lose you as a friend. I wish things would go back to how they were."
"So that's it?" he asked sharply. "That's all you want?"
I was a little taken aback. "What more is there? How much closer can we get, Jesse?"
He seemed to ignore my response. "What about Mason?"
I closed my locker and turned back to Jesse. "I mean, he's great too. But it's different. He's my boyfriend."
"Boyfriend," he repeated mechanically, like he was seeing how the word felt in his mouth. "Yeah. I see."
I frowned at his response. "But I'm still closer to you, Jesse. I haven't known him as long as you. He's never gonna replace you, if that's what you're worried about." I thought hard for a second. "Wait, is this about that kiss in the basement?"
"No," he said tersely. "It's not." Just then, the bell rang. "Well, see you later, Naomi," he said, turning and walking away down the hall.
"Jesse!" I called after him. But he kept going anyway.
The whole encounter left me feeling extra weird and frazzled. I almost mentioned it to Mason, but I didn't.
The next night, as I lay in bed, this idea took root in my head, one that would have explained so much—maybe Jesse was jealous of Mason and me. Maybe he had wanted to date me all along.
I arrived at the idea after watching Titanic for the hundredth time and seeing the love triangle between Cal, Rose, and Jack. It seemed a little out there, but it was too crazy not to ask.
Maybe it explained the whole surprise basement kiss. Maybe it explained a lot of things. It wasn't what I wanted, but maybe he did.
I knew what I had to do.
But the next time I had a gap in my classes long enough to make it to his locker, I almost fainted when I got there—and it wasn't from running down the halls.
I marched toward him full of determination, ready to end the madness. I would dive right in and show him that I knew him better than anyone else. I would tell him that I had gotten too carried away in my blossoming relationship with Mason to even consider the possible conflict. I would tell him that I wanted things to work out for everyone.
But it never happened.
Pressed up against his locker—by his body weight, of course—was none other than Carla Voss, the local "beauty queen" who hated me more than any other girl in the school. They were intensely making out, full-on tonsil-hockey, and I unintentionally caught a glimpse of his hand on her butt.
It was like a sucker punch.
I felt nauseous and turned around just as Mr. Calworth, the science teacher, rushed over to break up their public display of affection.
"You can't do that in the halls!" I heard him shout. "Get moving or I'm taking you to the principal."
I heard the cackle of Jesse's laughter as I rounded the corner and fled, passing between the other students like a ghost. I was really thankful he hadn't noticed me.
When I met Mason after school by his car, I almost started sobbing.
"Oh God," I moaned, "it's so bad."
"What is?" he asked, holding me in his arms. I hadn't even given him a choice, just ran right up and jumped into that cradled position. "Is somebody in the hospital or something?"
"It's worse!" I mumbled. "Jesse is dating Carla Voss! Did you know about it?"
Mason suddenly let me go, resting his hands on my shoulders. His eyes were like fireballs. "Wait, what? Seriously? Maybe they just went on one date or—"
"They were making out in the hall!" I hissed.
"Whoa." He glanced away for a second, like he was trying to make sure nobody was listening in. "Yeah, I didn't hear anything. That's nuts. Why would he date her? He used to complain about how mean she was."
"I don't know," I said, battling his arms to press my head against his chest. "I watched him grab her butt. It was disgusting. Mr. Calworth had to separate them."
"Oh my God," Mason said, scrunching his eyebrows and shaking his head. "That's so weird. I guess they weren't lying when they told us as freshmen to 'expect the unexpected.'"
I nodded. This was definitely the unexpected. According to the rules of high school, they were officially a couple. It was time to change my opinions and my life.
After the discovery, Jesse and I stopped talking for good, and aside from one final attempt to reach him—a thwarted attempt, might I add, because Carla butt in and said he didn't want to talk to me—we were totally separated, torn apart by strange social circumstances. He even started bringing her to church, which always made me cower behind my dad whenever he looked in my direction.
Seeing her in those fancy, expensive dresses her mom bought her, all made up for the world to see... well, it definitely didn't help.
Whatever had caused the changes was bigger than I could possibly understand, so I gave up and let myself fall headfirst into my beautiful new world with Mason.
4
As much as I didn't want to admit it, transitioning away from Jesse wasn't that tough at all. I quickly learned to rely on Mason instead of Jesse, finding him to be both an incredible lover and friend. It didn't matter if I was happy, sad, or enraged—Mason was always there for me.
Still, what did it all mean? Wasn't it a little cliché to abandon your friends for the hot new boyfriend or girlfriend—just like Jesse had already done to me?
Maybe I was getting carried away, but really, I didn't care. It felt good, so I was doing it. I lost Jesse to Carla, so there was nothing else to do. I stayed occupied, never stopping to be miserable.
Sex hadn't really come up with Mason and me yet, but the rumors were already flying about Jesse and Carla doing it in the girls' locker room. Some poor freshman had walked in on the dirty deed and word spread like wildfire.
The worst part was that Jesse had quickly developed this new persona, this aura of rebellion that I'd never seen in him. He was usually so by the book, so afraid of volatility and risk—and now he took more wild risks in a day than I took in a year.
Whenever I saw him in the hall, I barely recognized him.
He was very different. Changed.
I was momentarily totally disgusted by sex after hearing about his locker room exploits. As much as I didn't want to, I unintentionally imagined them doing it—and it made me feel nauseous.
Making out was enough for me, and we did it a lot. And Mason never stopped with the compliments, so that helped me feel especially good about myself.
At the very least, we had graduated to Mason touching my boobs, so we were getting somewhere. It was definitely different from just making out. I mean, I was starting to feel unusual inside, overcome by urges I figured would eventually lead to that.
But he wasn't pressuring me, and I loved that about him. I was quickly falling in love, and that fact
was crystal clear to my teenage heart.
A little over a month into the relationship, I finally told my parents. We were coming home from church and I was in a particularly good mood because I was in the middle of a three day weekend for fall break.
"So I see Jesse Evans has a girlfriend," my mom said, a hint of suspicion in her voice. "Is that why he hasn't been coming around?"
I was a bit shocked that it had taken her so long to mention it. "Yeah. I don't really get along with her. I guess it's fine, though."
"I don't know how much I approve of teen dating," my mom added. "All those hormones going crazy like that. It's a recipe for disaster."
I felt my muscles tense up. The conversation was taking an unpleasant turn.
"C'mon, honey," my dad said. "It's normal to date in high school. It's not always like those MTV shows or whatever. Right, Naomi?" He glanced back at me with his familiar, disarming smile. And as usual, it worked.
"Right," I said, smiling back.
"I mean, don't forget, we dated in high school, Carolyn."
"Those were very different times," my mom added, frowning.
I decided that I needed to act fast. I was going to go for it and just rip off the band-aid.
I swallowed hard, my heart beating fast. "Well, I'm actually... I'm dating someone, too," I said quietly. "Mason Ross. From the football team."
"I figured something was up," my mom said coolly, not looking back at me. Her red hair looked even redder than usual in the warm glow of the sun. "I figured it wasn't just Jesse."
"Mason? Oh yeah, he's a nice boy," my dad said, his eyes never leaving the road. "Talented too. He's in the newspaper all the time."
My heartbeat slowed. I was actually quite pleased by their initial reactions.
"Yeah, he's great," I said. "Really nice."
"Does he go to church?" my mom promptly inquired.
I cleared my throat. "Uh, I don't really know. I think so."
"Well, I hope so," she said. "You know, I've heard about those football players," my mom started. "One of them got a girl pregnant last year and then they both dropped out of school and—"
"Mom!" I said defensively. "It's not like that at all. He's just a nice guy. That's all. He treats me well."
"You know, the Bible says you're supposed to be a virgin until marriage," she sneered. "I hope you're not, y'know, doing that already. Brian, I sure hope you're with me on this," she said to my dad.
"No!" I said. "I'm not. And why do you always have to act like this? Give me a break."
As was the norm when things heated up, my dad remained reticent, allowing my mom to call the shots. He was so much more reasonable than her—unless she was around. Whenever anything serious came up, he would just follow along and agree with her whenever she demanded it, never giving his real opinion until she was gone.
"I just hope you'll be reasonable in the eyes of the Lord," she said. "I didn't raise you to act like some, well, you know what I mean." She shook her head and trailed off.
"Yeah, fine. Whatever, mom," I said. "I just wish you'd trust me for once."
"Mason is a nice kid, Carolyn," my dad said awkwardly, conveniently joining in at the wrong time. She wasn't interested, though.
I shut up, totally familiar with the routine. There was no way to win. Most people would have blown up at her—had she almost called me a whore?—but I was so used to it that I didn't let it get to me. And my good mood definitely helped. She had said the same things about every other young, sinful couple in town at one point or another; I could basically recite the whole speech verbatim from memory.
So a few days later, per my parents' suggestion, Mason joined us for a family dinner. And sure enough, my mom was immediately on the offensive. He had just walked in and was hanging his varsity jacket on the coat rack.
"Mom, this is Mason," I said, pointing excitedly back at him. He smiled big and full, his usual inviting and pleasant grin.
"Hi, Mrs. Miller. It's so nice to meet you." Mason reached out his hand and she shook it.
"Hi, Mason," she said. "I'm surprised we haven't seen you at our church," she added, almost in jest, but not quite.
"My mom doesn't usually go, Mrs. Miller," he said warmly.
"Well, do you go with your father then?" my mom asked.
"Mom!" I hissed. "Give him a break. He just walked in." I hadn't even really listened to what Mason said, just automatically assumed that my mom was prying too far—and I was right.
Mason nodded carefully, meeting my eyes and smiling again. "It's okay," he said to me. "My dad isn't around. He left a long time ago. We're not really sure where he is. And we usually don't go to church except for holidays, but we try to be good people anyway. It's hard to make plans with my mom's work schedule."
My mom nodded cautiously, either satisfied or unwilling to ask anything else. "I see. Well, I've got to finish cooking. The chicken's almost done."
As soon as she turned around, I gave Mason a concerned glare. I didn't know anything about his dad, but I did know about my mom. I had warned him that she might be a tad bit ridiculous, but he had insisted it would be fine. He just gave me a wry, accepting smile and followed me into the den to formally meet my dad.
"You have to tell me about your dad later," I whispered. He nodded.
That introduction went a lot better. My dad had plenty to ask him about football, and they immediately hit it off. I left the two of them chatting and went to my mom in the kitchen.
"Anything I can do?" I asked.
"He seems all right," she said. "But don't let him pressure you into doing anything you don't want to do. He might be nice now, but—"
"He's harmless," I said, butting in. "For real. Well, unless he's on a football field."
She didn't have anything to say to that.
I set the table, and shortly after, we ate, munching down roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, asparagus, and crescent rolls. A good old American meal.
Mason was a master of disarming my mom's uncomfortable comments throughout the meal, even better than me. And his patience surely impressed her, because there's no way I could have dealt with intense, direct inquisition like that.
"I think football is a violent sport," she said at one point. "I don't like it."
"That's just fine, Mrs. Miller," Mason said, finishing his bite of chicken before continuing. "There's no problem with you thinking that. It is kind of violent. People get hurt."
"But it's sure fun to watch," my dad said, a rare act of marital defiance.
"Brian!" My mom shook her head disapprovingly.
"Sorry, dear," he said, grinning. "You know how much I love local sports. Great for the community."
It took every bit of strength I had to not burst out laughing. I couldn't believe what I was witnessing—it was a great sign.
After dessert, Mason and I went downstairs to watch a movie. As was the rule in my house, I had to keep the door cracked open.
"Sorry about all of that," I whispered, even though I knew my parents probably couldn't hear me through the floor.
Mason hugged me and kissed the top of my head. "Sorry for what? You don't owe me an apology, Naomi," he said. "They're your parents. You can't change them. You are who you are, and I happen to think you're awesome."
"Really?" I said. I leaned forward and kissed him. "I think you're awesome, too."
"Your mom is a good cook," he said. "I wanted to eat everything on the table."
I giggled. "Yeah, she is."
We ended up turning on a movie and making out. My mom never bothered us, but then again, I didn't expect her to. She was probably dwelling on the horrors of unsupervised Mason and me the whole time, but again, she never actually enforced anything other than just angrily talking about it.
Things were great, and I couldn't believe how different life had become. The last time I hung out with someone in the basement though, it was Jesse. That thought hit me during a lull in our kissing.
"Have you seen Jesse?" I a
sked. "Or talked to him at all?"
"Just heard about him. From everybody. He's drinking and partying a lot now. People say that Carla's mom buys them booze."
"That's crazy," I said.
"And he apparently puked all over the floor at Taylor Johnson's house last weekend."
"Oh my God," I said. "That's so gross. I don't think Jesse's ever really drank before."
"It's definitely a new thing," Mason admitted. "Because he's really bad at it."
Hoping to get my mind off my former best friend, I went back to Mason. "I didn't know that stuff about your dad, Mason," I said. "I'm so sorry."
He let out a soft giggle, like he'd heard this all before. "It's okay, Naomi. He left when I was young. I didn't really know him. He was just... eccentric, apparently. He owes a lot in child support, and since he lives off the grid, it's hard to find him."
I gently rubbed his arm. "What about your mom? Is she doing okay?"
"She works at the bar," he said. "Usually late shifts, sometimes doubles. She's been trying to go back to school for years, but she's never found the time with her schedule. And every time she tries to get ahead, something always sets her back."
I held him tightly, feeling his chest rising and falling. "I'm so sorry, Mason. I don't know why I never asked. I feel... selfish complaining about my mom."
"You're not selfish, Naomi. Seriously. It's fine. She's a bit of a handful, but she's okay."
Even with his reassurances, I felt really bad. If I had known beforehand, it might have smoothed out the whole weird, pushy introduction with my mom. It was unusual to me that he was the star quarterback, yet from a somewhat broken home. The sports stars were always the perfect, spoiled, pretty kids from the rich families.
It was actually the first time we had hung out at one of our houses. Prior to that moment, we had always been in his Corvette or at a restaurant or the park. "Is that why we've never gone to your house?"
"I guess so," he said softly. "I didn't want you to feel bad for me. My mom works really hard and she raised me well. She's an awesome mom."
I kissed his cheek firmly. "Aww, Mason," I said. "That's seriously so sweet."