“Yeah! I didn’t even realize it was ‘chasing’ until, like, seventh grade,” I said.
“You are the only other person I’ve met who thought that!”
Natalie cut in, spreading her arms between us. “All right, weirdos, take a drink,” she said easily. “The rest of us have ears that actually work.”
Lydia caught my eye as we each took a sip of our sweet tea. I had a feeling then, the same kind of feeling I’d had when she recognized me at Ricky’s party: a warm, hopeful anchoring, like maybe I did belong.
The game went on, and now, for the first time, I felt I was truly a part of it. I laughed easily, held eye contact when they addressed me, and even accepted the buffalo wing Cliff offered me. I was in the flow of the experience, taking it all in, dazzled to find myself holding my own. If I could have painted that moment to keep it forever, I would have made every texture and color pop with life. Scrunched eyebrows, draped arms, crumpled napkins shot across the table. Yellow lemons, green peppers, brown hands, soft pink lips. Every one of them a small, infinite miracle I never thought I’d know.
* * *
By ten thirty, the Taco Mac parking lot was nearly deserted. We clustered around the few remaining cars while everyone debated what to do next. In the end, Leo’s insistence to “hit the roof” won out.
“What’s the roof?” I asked once Ricky and I were back in his car.
“Leo’s mom works for this graphic design firm that’s, like, all hipster and ‘open office’ or whatever. They have access to the roof of the building, so sometimes we go there and hang out.”
“And we’re allowed to?”
Ricky glanced at me, hedging his answer. “We’re not not allowed to.”
We followed Leo’s car, with Samuel and Terrica behind us and Cliff, Natalie, and Lydia behind them. It was only a ten-minute drive, but that was long enough for me to lose some of the confidence I’d built up at Taco Mac. I was nervous about sneaking onto an office roof late on a Saturday night.
We parked our cars side by side in the back corner of the parking lot. Leo swung a backpack over his shoulder, casual and breezy while he took a hit from his vape, and we followed him into the building like it was nothing. I could tell from everyone’s chatter that they’d done this a million times before.
“Everyone in?” Leo asked as we crammed into the elevator.
Cliff was holding tight to Natalie; Samuel was doing the same to Terrica. I hung in the corner with Ricky, trying to keep myself relaxed. Lydia slipped into the spot in front of me, and when she turned to face the doors, I caught a whiff of her shampoo.
“Selfie!” Terrica sang, holding her phone aloft.
We squeezed ourselves into the camera frame as the elevator pulled us upward. Natalie pinched Cliff’s ass just as Terrica took the photo, and he squirmed and squealed in a goofy, high-pitched voice. The doors opened onto the fourth floor, and before I knew it, we were on the roof.
“Wow,” I said, taking it all in.
The others streamed past, giddy with energy, but Leo came up to me and swept his arm over the view.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, forgetting my nervousness.
Across the treetops and stretches of interstate, the city skyline was glittering. It was miles away, far enough to seem mythical and imposing.
“That’s Buckhead,” Leo said, pointing off to the left, “and Midtown’s over there, and downtown’s, you know, down there.”
I turned to him. “Thanks for bringing me.”
“’Course,” he said, laughing. “It’s obvious you can hang.”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that, but Samuel saved me. “Hey, Le,” he called, gesturing Leo over, “let’s get this going.”
We hung in a pack around the railing, talking and laughing while Leo pulled beers from his backpack. He handed them out in a routine way, and I accepted one like it was no big deal, but I looked to Ricky for affirmation. He winked at me and popped the tab of his open, and I followed his lead. The beer tasted just like the one I’d shotgunned on his deck.
Leo produced a joint next. He lit it up and passed it around, but I turned it down, blushing. For a split second I worried that someone might call me on it, but nobody even noticed. They all seemed to be doing their own thing, letting the night carry them wherever they wanted to go.
“Ricky, Codi, wanna join us?” Lydia called. She was lying flat on her back on the concrete, with Natalie stretched out next to her. The others were still by the railing, taking turns smoking.
Ricky raised his eyebrows at me. He was letting me decide.
“Yeah,” I said boldly, leading the way to them.
I lay down next to Lydia, my chest buzzing. The concrete was hard on my skull and back, but I eased into it, trying to be graceful. Ricky spread out next to me, keeping his knees up, folding his hands over his stomach.
The sky was velvet blue, streaked with milky patches, sprinkled with stars. I breathed in and felt contentment flooding into my arms and legs, loosening everything.
“Nat and I do this thing,” Lydia said, her voice clear in the stillness. She turned toward me, and I could smell her shampoo again. “We give the stars as many names as we can.”
“You mean, like … you name the constellations?” I asked.
“No, it’s way better than that.” She shifted and pointed up to the right. “Like, that little guy is Mr. Potato Head.”
“He’s right next to Shrek,” Natalie said. “And there’s Donkey.”
“And that’s Harry Styles.”
“What was the one you came up with that one night?” Natalie asked her. “The little pig?”
“Peppa Pig,” Lydia said. “She’s a nasty woman.”
I laughed out loud. Lydia turned to grin at me, her eyes bright, her eyelashes long.
“That’s Ariana Grande,” Ricky said, pointing.
“No,” Natalie said, “Ariana Pequeña. She’s a little star.”
“Twinkle, twinkle,” Lydia giggled.
I raised my arm, spreading my fingers over the night sky. “Look, Ricky, there’s Nickelback.”
Lydia and Natalie burst out laughing. Ricky swatted me sideways, dragging his hand across my face as I sputtered with laughter.
We went on like that for a few minutes, throwing up the most outlandish names we could think of, Lydia making me choke with laughter when she proclaimed one of them to be Edward Cullen, “because he sparkles.” We finished our beers and drank another round, and everything became funnier and funnier, and I found myself talking more and more freely.
We finally sat up when the others came over to join us. They plopped down with their feet spread out in front of them, their eyes red from smoking, Terrica giggling like crazy. Natalie filled them in on our star names and Samuel laughed so hard he cried. We were in a loose circle, the breeze swirling around us, the summer crickets buzzing and whirring far below. I caught a glimpse of Ricky’s glowing smile, his relaxed laugh, and I finally understood what he meant about feeling like he’d known his friends since kindergarten.
“So, Codi,” Cliff said, “what’s your story? What are you into?”
I laughed, tipsy and relaxed. “I’m still figuring that out.”
“Codi’s a painter,” Ricky announced, and the group gasped like they’d never heard anything so impressive.
“A painter?” Leo repeated, his eyes glazed over. “Like Monet? Duuuude.”
“Nowhere near that good,” I said quickly. “It’s just a hobby.”
“She’s awesome at it,” Ricky said, even though he’d never seen my paintings. “She does people’s portraits.”
“Whoa,” everyone said again.
“Um … yeah … I haven’t done that in a while, though…”
“Can you paint our portraits?” Terrica asked, like it would be the most meaningful thing in the world.
“Yeah, that would be insane!” Natalie said. “I’ve always wanted to have my portr
ait done!”
Cliff snorted. “Narcissistic much?”
“Shut up, dickhead,” she said, smacking him. “Seriously, though, I’ve wanted one since I was little. My aunt and uncle had this ginormous portrait of my cousin hanging in their house, but when I asked my parents if I could do something like that, my brother said you had to be pretty to have your portrait done.”
“I’ll fucking kill him,” Cliff said, kissing her goofily.
“It’s fine,” Natalie said nonchalantly. “He turned out to be the ugly one.”
Everyone roared with laughter; Lydia swatted at Natalie’s forearm like she was too much for her to handle.
“So?” Natalie asked brightly, looking at me. “What do you think, Codi?”
“She charges for her portraits,” Ricky said protectively.
“Then it’s a good thing I’ve got that serving job,” Natalie said, undeterred.
I hesitated. I could feel Ricky’s eyes on me and half hoped he would step in again.
Then Lydia spoke, looking directly at me. “Could I come watch?”
My heart drummed. I could still feel Ricky looking at me, but I didn’t need to catch his eye this time. The way forward was clear.
“Yeah, okay,” I said casually, trying to contain my grin. “Let’s do it.”
* * *
It was after midnight by the time we left the rooftop. Ricky’s friends hugged me goodbye and made me promise I’d hang out with them again. It was the easiest promise I’d ever made.
“We’ll text you about the portrait,” Natalie said, punching her number into my phone. “Lyd, here, put yours in.”
Lydia typed her number in, her fingers moving fast, her pretty lip between her teeth. When she finished, she held my phone out with a mischievous smile.
“What?” I asked, smiling without even trying.
She nodded at the phone, and I saw how she’d entered her contact info: Lydia Kaufman aka Jason Waterfalls.
“Amazing,” I said, grinning at her.
“Right?” she said, grinning back.
* * *
“So,” Ricky said as he drove me back to my car at Totes-n-Goats. “My friends are pretty great, huh?”
I smiled at him. “They’re incredible.”
“And?”
“And what?”
He looked sideways at me. “Don’t be a punk. How’d it go with Lydia?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You knew it was her I was describing, didn’t you?”
He grinned. “I narrowed it down, yeah, and then after you told me about the redhead and the buzz cut guy, I knew I had it on lock.”
“You didn’t tell any of them, did you?”
“Of course not.” He hesitated and sighed. “Actually, the guys were trying to ask if you and I were a thing, but I shut that down fast.”
“Ew. I didn’t even think of that. Did you tell them I’m gay?”
“No, just said we’re friends.”
I fell silent, wondering how Ricky’s friends would react if I told them. They seemed like they wouldn’t care at all, and I wondered, yet again, why he couldn’t tell them the truth about himself.
“Lydia told me about meeting you at my party,” Ricky said.
I whipped around. “She remembered me?”
“Yeah. She said you were really awesome and she was glad she got to meet you for real this time.”
I felt like I’d been swept up on a wave.
“Are you gonna say anything?” Ricky laughed.
I laughed, too. “What’s there to say? I mean, she’s super cute, but I just met her. Do you even know if she likes girls?”
Ricky shrugged, his eyes thoughtful in the glow of the streetlights. “I guess you’ll find out, won’t you?”
8
Maritza and JaKory weren’t happy with me for blowing them off on Saturday night.
“I told you,” I said as we hovered around my kitchen counter on Sunday afternoon, “I wasn’t feeling well. I just wanted to sleep after work.”
“But you’re feeling better now?” JaKory asked, genuinely concerned.
“Yeah,” I said, not looking at either one of them. “I probably just ate something weird.”
My brother was standing in front of the pantry, most likely scoping out the canned ravioli he was so obsessed with, and as I spoke, he turned around to stare at me. The look on his face was accusatory. He must have been awake when I’d gotten home last night and knew I hadn’t been sick at all.
“Anyway,” I said hastily, trying to keep Grant out of the conversation, “are we going to the pool, or what?”
We spent the afternoon swimming, playing games, and sunbathing in our favorite section of the lounge chairs. It was comforting, it was familiar, and it was quintessential summer, but it also felt dissonant to be there with Maritza and JaKory, doing the same things we always did, when I’d been with Ricky and his friends just last night, doing something new. It seemed like a glaringly big omission not to tell my two best friends about it.
Much later, when my friends had gone home and I was watching TV on the couch, my brother walked past me and said, “Since when do you lie to Maritza and JaKory?”
I wasn’t quick enough to come up with a retort. Instead I let my mouth hang open, another lie halfway out of my throat, but my brother shook his head and continued on past me.
* * *
Two nights later, when I was getting ready for bed, Natalie texted me.
Natalie Novak: Hey Codi, so when are you gonna paint me like one of your French girls??
I noticed she’d sent it to a group chat—and the other person included was Lydia.
“Shit,” I said under my breath, pacing in loops around my bed. My heart was beating way too fast, thrilled by the prospect of texting Lydia, even if it was technically in a group chat. I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was the start of something.
Before I could reply, Lydia’s response showed up. She sent a GIF from Titanic of Old Rose saying, “It’s been eighty-four years.”
I stared at my phone, trying to think of a funny or clever response. In the end I settled for something safe:
Hahaha, whenever you want! I’m working morning shifts for the next three days but other than that I’m free.
I read over my message, trying to see it through their eyes. Did saying “whenever you want” sound too eager, too desperate? Should I have played more hard to get?
Natalie Novak: Yaaaassssss! How about tomorrow after Lyd and I finish at the restaurant? We’re on the breakfast shift til 2.
I hadn’t known Lydia and Natalie worked at the restaurant together, but the idea settled perfectly in my head: Lydia wearing a server’s apron, popping up to a table with that bright, beaming smile, asking old folks whether they wanted bacon with their eggs. I pictured myself seated at one of her tables, trying not to blush when her hand grazed mine as she collected my menu.
I agreed to meet them at the restaurant, Natalie gave me the name and address, and I figured that was the end of it. I tucked myself into bed, already imagining how it would go the next day, and was just about to fall asleep when my phone glowed blue in the darkness. Lydia had sent one more text.
Lydia Kaufman aka Jason Waterfalls: Can’t wait. Thanks Codi!
Below that, she sent a GIF from TLC’s “Waterfalls” video.
I closed my eyes, smiling to myself. Despite having to work a nine A.M. shift the next day, I couldn’t wait to wake up.
* * *
Work dragged and dragged and dragged. The store was dead, so Tammy asked me to refold a wall of T-shirts. It was miserable, and I was exhausted, but every few minutes I’d remember that I was going to see Lydia afterward and suddenly I’d feel buoyant.
When my shift ended, I went straight to my car, took off my goofy name tag, and tried to make my hair look cuter. This annoying little voice in my head kept saying, None of this matters, she’s probably straight, but another voice, one that reminded me of Ricky, said, Stop worryi
ng and enjoy this feeling.
The Court Café’s parking lot was emptying out by the time I got there. I waited in my car, savoring the air-conditioning, but as soon as the clock hit two I got out and leaned against the car door, trying to look casual while the staff slipped out the back exit.
Lydia and Natalie were the last to leave, laughing together as they spilled out of the restaurant. The moment they stepped off the sidewalk, Lydia noticed me and broke into that big smile.
“Hey,” she called, walking toward me. She was wearing a sky-blue polo shirt with the restaurant logo on it, and her hair was up in a messy ponytail with these little flyaway hairs dancing around her face. I had a tender, visceral urge to tuck them behind her ear.
“Wanna come inside?” Natalie asked, pulling up behind Lydia. “We’re closed until dinner at five, so it’s super chill in there. I was thinking we could do the portrait on the back porch.”
“Yeah, okay,” I said, grabbing my stuff out of the car. “That sounds perfect.”
Lydia offered me a hand with my supplies. I gave her the sketchpad to carry, and our fingertips touched for the briefest second. A tingling sensation ran up my neck, and I blushed, but thankfully she didn’t seem to notice.
“Sorry we took so long,” Lydia said as they led me inside. “We were swamped today. There’s some national Little League tournament going on, so all these families came in at the same time. One of my tables was from Vermont, and I don’t think they’d ever been to the South before, because they got all excited about ordering grits.”
I found myself smiling at her. “Did they like them?”
“No, they thought they were gross. But I affected a cute little accent so they could still have an authentic southern experience. I’ve said ‘y’all’ about a hundred times in the last two hours.”
Natalie snorted. “You’re such an exaggerator. You’re not even southern!” She turned to look at me. “Her family’s from Michigan.”
“Yeah, and yours is from New Jersey,” Lydia said, poking her in the back, “but you still drink swayt tay like it’s your job.”
Late to the Party Page 9