Mike followed suit. He ran over to the fire as if he was trying to beat Kyle to the punch and then he pissed on the fire, too. It was disgusting to watch, but still funny.
When he was done, Mike and I slapped each other five, grabbed hold of each other’s arms like we were dancing, and screamed and laughed like maniacs. It was one of the happiest moments of my life, getting rid of Mr. Dick and Physics, once and for all.
But Kyle wasn’t about to let us get away with such originality that night.
“I’d piss on the fire,” he said, “but I don’t have the feeling to go.”
Me and Mike stopped dancing and looked at each other triumphantly. We felt bad for Kyle, because he didn’t have to take a piss. I thought: Finally! Nature has halted Kyle from upstaging me! But just as we were about to settle down, Kyle spoke up again.
“I said I didn’t have to piss,” Kyle announced with a sly grin. And then, just as he finished that sentence, he ran toward the edge of the waning campfire, dropped his pants, yelled out “Shit on you, Mr. Dick!” and blasted a dump on top of the charred Physics pages. The blaze quickly transformed into a pissy, shitty-smelling heap of smoldering wet ash. We thought it smelled bad before, but Kyle’s dump turned it into a toxic wasteland. God, was it awful. A noxious haze filled the air. It was like the agent orange my father described to me—it just clung to air in the cool, quiet night, making our eyes water as though it were a big onion. But we didn’t care, because it had to be one of the funniest things that me and Mike had ever witnessed in our lives. Kyle was a human fire extinguisher for a night.
When he was through, Kyle pulled up his pants without even wiping, and sat down right next to me and Mike.
“Hot shit!” he said. “Almost burned my ass.” We collapsed on the ground, and rolled in the leaves, hysterical.
***
The next day, we all went down to the ball field to play softball. Mike knew a lot of people up there, because he and his family went to their cabin so often. He introduced to me to about eight or nine people, and one in particular named Stephanie.
Stephanie and I were on the same team, me the pitcher, and her catcher. Like a pro ballplayer, she’d run up to the mound every inning, supposedly to advise me on my next pitch, but in reality to flirt. She wasn’t bad-looking, either. I didn’t really like blondes that much; but she was the prettiest girl there, so she was good enough to flirt with.
As we talked, it became apparent to Mike and Kyle that she was hot for me, so they left us alone. Although I felt guilty at first, I quickly changed my mind and figured there was nothing wrong with a little flirting. And I guess it felt good that she liked me and there was nothing wrong with that. I was so goddamn confident from being with Maria that I was unafraid to pursue her. I knew she would like me, I just knew it. And if I was wrong? Well, big deal, because Maria was waiting for me back in the city.
We played six innings and tied four-four. I hit a grand-slam, but so did Kyle, who was playing for the other team. Kyle and Mike are sharp enough to know when something’s up with me and a girl. As soon as the game ended, they took off. Stephanie and I talked about nothing in particular. We had nothing in common, other than the fact that each thought the other was cute, I guess. Then she started getting a little closer to me on the bench. For a moment, I thought she was going to kiss me first, and then I thought she wanted me to kiss her. I didn’t really want to, though. I just felt good talking to a girl that seemed to like me.
“So, you’re from the city, huh?”
“Yea, Queens, what about you?”
“I’m from Poughkeepsie. Not the city, though. I live in the suburbs of Poughkeepsie,” she said. “It’s like the pit of hell.” She was funny. I grabbed her hand and placed it on my thigh. She didn’t hesitate. In fact, she ran her hand up to my crotch and then smiled like she wanted to kiss me.
Time was in slow motion. On one hand, I just wanted to finish talking to this girl and be on my way. On the other, I figured it would be cool to kiss her, because I rarely kissed two different girls in the same week, and that alone would just make Kyle and Mike flip. And Maria had said she kissed like ten guys. I had to catch up with her. I just had to.
But then, just as I thought she was about to lean in and kiss me—just as I thought I was going to kiss her—Mike’s father pulled up in the car with Mike and Kyle in the back seat.
“We have to go get some firewood,” Mike’s father said.
“Yeah, firewood!” Kyle said, busting my balls.
I looked at Stephanie—half in disgust, half with lust—and told her I had to go. I got into the car and we all went off to get firewood. I never saw her again.
What a close call! I don’t really know what would’ve happened that day with Stephanie. But between the Mr. Dick fire and the firewood thing, my friends and I haven’t stopped talking about that weekend at the cabin to this day.
Chapter 9
Love
As soon as I got home from Mike’s cabin, I called Maria. We talked for almost three hours. We had a lot of catching up to do since I was away all weekend. I told her about Mr. Dick, and the campfire. But of course I never mentioned Stephanie. Maria said that she was beginning to trust me a lot more quickly that she’d expected. She said that she thought about me all of the time. And the cutest part was that she’d spent the weekend while I was away doing laundry and cleaning her house. Apparently, neither of her parents ever did the laundry. Her moth was too busy working, and her father didn’t do shit. Maria said she’d been doing the family laundry since she was seven years old.
She said that she thought about me as she was doing the laundry. That was so damn cute. She had a way of being cute without even trying; it was truly genuine. She also had a way of being sexy without knowing it.
“How often do you wash your bras?” I asked. It was the first time I showed her my horny adolescent side. Rather than get offended or change the subject, she answered in her own special way, like she always did. “As often as they need to be washed,” she said. I loved that.
“Have you ever let a guy touch your breasts?” I asked.
Maria was a bit startled by my bluntness. “Well,” she said, “I’ve just never felt comfortable going that far.”
I continued to press the subject, partly because it was turning me on, but mostly because I would never touch a girl’s breasts without finding out how she felt about it first. She admitted that she’d thought about letting me get to “second base,” as she put it, when she was hanging her bras out to dry. We’d accomplished “first base” in Central Park on our last date. “Second base,” as every teenager knew, was feeling a chick up—or, if you were a chick, getting felt up. “Third base” meant putting you hands down a girl’s pants, or maybe even eating her out, or, if you were a guy, getting a blowjob. And a “home run” was, well, a home run. I’d just turned seventeen and, coincidentally, Maria had just turned sixteen, so neither of us felt like Babe Ruth. But we both wanted to begin rounding the bases. At least, I did.
Like I said, Maria had a unique way of being cute about stuff like that. Gentlemanly, I told her that we’d go to second whenever she was ready. “I might be ready sooner than I thought,” she said. That was all I needed to hear. My plan was simple: I was going to head for second the next time I saw Maria.
And that next time was two days later. I parked my rusty green, 1982 Buick Skylark out in front of her school, The Megan Louis Academy, and waited, trying to look cool, as an occasional student popped out through the doors. I’d picked Maria up from school before, but never in my car. I always despised the bastards that already had their cars and waited out in front of Megan Louis for their girlfriends—radios blaring, engines racing—not giving a shit what anyone thought. So that day I turned up my radio, and leaned up against the side of the car with a pair of sunglasses on. Actually, they weren’t on; they were sitting atop my head, ready to be put on should the sun get too bright. I was so cool, and I had the confidence to approach any gir
l I wanted to and say, “Hey, baby, ya want a ride?”
But I didn’t do that. Occasionally, a hot girl would pass by and I’d smile in her direction, and she’d smile back. But I had to be discreet, because any one of those girls could have been a friend of Maria’s. Mostly I just stood there, sweating, smoking a cigarette. All the losers around me were smoking, too. I felt really different from them, though.
It’s amazing how quickly something you thought was so important just evaporates from your mind. And as I stood in front of Maria’s school the Tuesday following my trip to Mike’s cabin, I didn’t even remember Stephanie’s name. But as I waited, I began to look at other girls—some I knew, some I didn’t. I passed by Mike’s sister and Lynn as they walked toward the subway entrance; they didn’t even glance at me, never mind say anything. I was sure they weren’t speaking to Maria, either. Maria had lost a friend simply to be my girlfriend. She has a better friend now, I thought to myself. Lynn was a loser, anyway. She looked like a horse.
Finally, I saw Maria poke her head out of the door at the bottom of the hill where the school was. Quickly, I threw my cigarette down on the ground, kicked it under my car, and popped some gum in my mouth. But as quickly as I put it out, I wanted another one, because Maria was talking to some hood as she walked up the hill. They were laughing. I kept wondering who the hell the bastard was. I don’t think she saw me, or she would’ve stopped talking to him, I guess.
He was practically touching her arm, like they were dating or something. I started thinking that maybe Maria cheated on me while I was away. I was about to cry, but I held back the tears and became enraged instead. I was in such a good mood that day, and she had to ruin it.
Maria didn’t know I was coming to pick her up, and that I’d planned on surprising her. She started running toward me as I began walking down the hill toward her. The guy she was with walked in another direction. As I met Maria, we embraced wordlessly and immediately as if we hadn’t seen each other in years.
“I missed you so much!” she exclaimed, panting hard from the race up the hill. And she really meant it, too. “Did you miss me?” she asked, beaming.
“Who the hell was that guy?” I replied, quickly changing what she thought was a blissful moment.
“What? Who do you mean? Oh, you mean Kelvin?”
“Yeah, whatever,” I said. “Who the fuck is that asshole?”
“Watch your language!” she said, looking around to see if anyone was within earshot. She coldly withdrew from the hug.
“Well, who is he?”
“He’s just a friend from school. What’s your problem?”
“How many guy friends do you have? A lot?” I couldn’t stop asking about this guy. I just wanted to let Maria know that I was serious, and maybe convince her that if she talked to another guy, I’d beat him up or something. I don’t really know.
“You’ve never gone out with him, have you?” I asked.
“No! We’re just friends! School is over for the summer and I was just saying goodbye to him. What the hell is wrong with you?” Suddnely, Maria was starting to sound like a guinea.
“Well, why were you laughing, then? Who laughs when they say goodbye?”
“I don’t know...” Maria just trailed off, about to weep from my inquisition. But I just wanted to know who the guy was. She should have been flattered that I was a little jealous.
I turned away from her and faced the passenger door of my car. The car was still turned on and trembling, spewing exhaust all around us. I placed the palms of my hands right up against the roof and twirled my neck around to loosen it up. Closing my eyes tightly, I witnessed a fireworks display beneath my eyelids and, for a moment, was about to throw up and pass out.
Finally, I came to my senses and apologized to Maria.
“I was just a little jealous, okay? I’m really sorry. I drove all the way over here to surprise you with my car, and the last thing I wanted to see you do was talk to another guy.” I really was sorry, and I vowed right then and there not to let my jealousy get the best of me again. There was so much fun to be had that it wasn’t worth getting jealous—not that jealous, at least—over some asshole from her school.
Before she had a chance to respond, I placed my hands on her shoulders and tugged her toward my body, wrapping my long arms around her little back like an octopus. “I forgive you,” she said. And I was at peace.
***
I didn’t want to ruin such a special day. Like I said, not only was it the first time I ever picked Maria up in my car, it was also the day I planned to go to second base with her for the first time. I was so excited about the thought. I’d seen plenty of tits in my day, but I’d never felt so strongly for any girl before, and I knew it would be special with Maria because she’d never let a guy do that to her.
We got in my car and headed straight back to her house. It was just after two, but she said her parents wouldn’t be home until five. I figured she told me that to indicate that we’d be alone. As we drove, I thought about what happened with that guy in the park—the guy who grabbed her ass—and I promised myself I’d be completely different: respectful, caring, and, most of all, patient.
I’d never been inside her house before. As she opened the door I heard a dog barking. Until that point, I didn’t know she had a dog. I asked to see it, but she said that it was kind of vicious and would probably bite me. “But he’s a sweetie,” though, Maria said. I shrugged my shoulders and sat on the couch.
We each had a soda and watched TV for a while. Maria’s house was nice. There were paintings of different types of flowers all over the walls across from the sofa, except for a giant crucifix, which hung right in the middle. Across from us hung about ten slender mirrors, ceiling to the floor. They were remarkably similar to the ones in my house. Sitting on the sofa, while quietly embracing Maria, I had to keep myself from nodding off. It’s not that I was bored—far from it. I was completely relaxed,
“You like those mirrors?” Maria asked. “You keep looking behind you, staring at them.” I was surprised that she’d noticed. I wasn’t sure if I should tell her the story about the mirrors in my house.
“Looks like you have something on your mind, A.J.,” She held my hand and gazed into my eyes. “Tell me,” she said, calmly.
“Honestly, it’s really nothing,” I said. “I just remember when my mom made my dad install the same mirrors in my house. It was a few years ago, and he worked like hell to keep them against the wall, in just the right place, so that he could screw them in, perfectly juxtaposed.
“Once my dad was finished, my mother came in the living room and, as usual, second-guessed his work. The man was sitting there in a pool of sweat, on his hands and knees, panting like a dog because it was so hard to get those goddamn mirrors on the wall perfectly. And my mother did what she always does—she told him to do them over; she said that the mirrors weren’t high enough up. I was so pissed off at her. She was sitting there smoking a cigarette as he installed them, so why didn’t she say anything? As usual, my father didn’t say a word in response to her criticism. He simply reinstalled the mirrors. I would’ve killed her if I were him.” I felt so relieved, letting my demons out and telling Maria the truth.
Maria didn’t say a word. She looked concerned, but receptive. I remember feeling so relieved. I suppose, in retrospect, that I should have opened up to her more that day, and more often in general. Maybe had I done that, Maria and I would’ve stayed together. Maybe, Mom, you and I would’ve become friends...
…maybe I wouldn’t be writing this letter.
“Who installed those mirrors?” I asked sharply, still angry at my stupid mother.
“Me and my mother did, just last month.”
“Holy cow,” I said, “I didn’t think a girl could do that.” I didn’t mean to offend her, but I think it came out that way. “I mean—”
She cut me off. “Well, me and my mom fix everything that breaks around here, and we install all the stuff. Like that tab
le over there,” she said, pointing to a handsome oak dining room set. “Me and my mother put that together. Mostly me, actually.”
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