Autoboyography
Page 50
My stomach turns sour and then starts to boil.
“I think the impending prom made them feel amorous,” Autumn says beside me.
“Or desperate.” I pull my laptop from my backpack and glance back up at Sebastian. He still hasn’t turned around to even look at me.
I wish I could throw something at the back of his head or shout an unashamed “HELLO, REMEMBER ME?” in front of everyone. Instead I just pull out my phone and, beneath the table, send him a quick Hey, I’m over here text.
I watch as he reaches for his pocket, pulls out his phone, reads.
And then he turns, offers me a wan little smile over his shoulder without actually making eye contact—his eyes swim somewhere above my head—and turns back.
My brain is a blender. Mom’s voice pushes to the surface again, calming, reminding me that Sebastian is leaving soon and has pressures I’ll never understand. What if this was the first time he prayed and felt worse afterward?
The class ticks by in enormous, redwood-size chunks while I continue to spiral. Almost everyone is done drafting, and Fujita is giving us tips on revisions. At least I think he is. I’m glad Autumn is taking meticulous notes because I’m not catching a word of it. Instead, I bend, crouching over my Post-it, writing,
THE MOON WAS GONE,
LEAVING ONLY THE YELLOWING GLOW OF THE LAMPS BEHIND US.
DIRT ROAD STRETCHED BACKWARD FOR ETERNITY
AND FOR ONCE WE WERE ALONE.
I’D TAKE THE HEAT OF YOU ON THIS TINY CAR
EVERY DAY
OVER THE MEMORY OF YOU IN MY BED.
IN MY HAND, SO HEAVY.
A LIFETIME OF WANT, FILLING MY PALM.
YOU BIT MY NECK WHEN YOU CAME
AND THEN KEPT YOUR EYES CLOSED WHEN YOU KISSED ME.
And doing everything I can to not stare at him.
• • •
I grab my things and am out the door seconds after the bell rings. Autumn calls after me, but I keep going. I’ll text her later and explain. I’m at the end of the hall when I hear my name. It’s not Autumn.
“Tanner, wait up.”
My feet slow, even though I don’t want them to.
“Hey.” I keep my eyes glued to the span of lockers near me. I shouldn’t do this right now; I’m hurt and mad and embarrassed by his avoidance, and afraid of what I might say.
“‘Hey’?” he says back, obviously confused. And it’s no wonder; I think this is the first time he’s been the one to come after me.
Standing in the middle of the hall, we’re like a stone in the river, a steady stream of students moving to make their way around us. I wouldn’t describe this spot as inconspicuous, but if he’s here, I’m here.
“Were you headed to class?” he asks.
I don’t know why the storm is choosing this second to build inside me. Why this moment? Why now? Everything was so good this weekend. We had one day of silence and one weird interaction in class and boom—my brain is taking this to DEFCON-1 levels of panic.
I’m back on the mountain, hearing him say, Not . . . that. I’m not gay.
And there’s something today, some set in his jaw, some weird lean in his posture away from me that tells me Saturday did more harm than good. He’s fighting something, and he doesn’t even know it. He’s so far buried in his own dogma and his own world of shoulds that he can’t admit to himself that he’s into dudes, that he’ll always be into dudes, that it’s a piece of him, a perfect part of him, and it deserves admiration and respect and space the same way anything else about him does.
“It’s the end of the day,” I tell him. “I was going home.”
He shakes his head. “Right, I knew that. Tanner, I’m s—”
Sebastian never gets to finish that thought, because Manny is coming toward us. “Hey, guys,” he says, smiling in our direction.
But he doesn’t just say “Hey,” he says “Hey, guys.” Not like we’re two people, but like we’re two people together. Like we’re a couple. When I look over to gauge Sebastian’s reaction, I know he made the distinction too.
Jesus, Manny. Would it be possible for you to be supportive more quietly?
“Manny, hi,” Sebastian says.
I blink away and nod toward Manny’s letterman’s jacket. “Game tonight?” I’m careful to keep my voice conversational, despite feeling like a constellation of small explosions have started inside my chest. I never told Sebastian about the conversation with Manny. I never told him that he knows.
“Yeah, basketball. Listen, we’re opening my pool this weekend, and I wanted to invite you both over. It’ll be a few kids from here, some of my brother’s friends . . .” He pauses, eyes going from me, to Sebastian, to me again, and if I had to guess what we look like based on his expression, it’s bad. He turns to me. “But, Tanner, it’s not the guys from the lake. Everyone will be cool, so you don’t have to worry or anything.”
Sebastian’s head tilts slowly to the side before he asks, “What do you mean?”
The air leaves my lungs in a rush.
Manny’s eyes go wide, and the only way this would be more awkward would be if Manny opened with You guys are the cutest couple. “I just mean . . .” He looks to me for help. “Sorry, I saw you guys on a hike the other week and thought . . .”
All the blood drains from Sebastian’s face.
“Manny—” I start, but he waves me off.
“Nah, guys, I get it. Whatever. You’re both invited, or—either of you, separately, whatever works.” He’s such an easygoing guy, and I hope it comforts Sebastian that he clearly couldn’t care one way or another what we do together, but Sebastian is like a statue beside me. With a quick glance over his shoulder, Manny is gone, and Sebastian turns on me.
Oh, shit.
“What did you tell him?”
I hold up my hands. “Whoa—I didn’t tell him anything. He just said he saw us on a hike.”
God. Which hike? There are so many now, and over time we just got so comfortable being on the mountain, kissing like we were behind closed doors. The idea that Manny saw some of that . . . that maybe someone was with him . . . My stomach feels like a bubbling cauldron.
Sebastian turns, and his profile is a portrait of tight anger. This is probably the first second I feel like we’re actually a couple. How ironic, too, that it’s happening while we’re at school, the halls thinning out but for a few stragglers here and there who have no idea we’re together, that we’ve kissed, that I’ve seen what he looks like when he’s lost to pleasure, that I’ve watched him cry and held his hand. That I’ve seen his generosity and felt that pride I feel when I realized he’s mine. None of those moments feel as real, as coupley, as this one right here, where I know we’re about to start arguing in earnest.
“What happened at the lake?”
“Some guys were being dicks, and he came up to me and Autumn after and said—”
His voice rises several pitches. “Autumn knows too?”
Someone passes, and Sebastian startles to attention, rearranging his features into the mask and giving her a mild, “Hi, Stella.”
When she’s gone, I lead him out the door next to us, to the parking lot. It’s dead out here—like, there are no students in this lot, no teachers, barely anyone walking down the sidewalk—but even still, Sebastian keeps a healthy distance from me. A Mormon distance, my mind sneers.
“I think the impending prom made them feel amorous,” Autumn says beside me.
“Or desperate.” I pull my laptop from my backpack and glance back up at Sebastian. He still hasn’t turned around to even look at me.
I wish I could throw something at the back of his head or shout an unashamed “HELLO, REMEMBER ME?” in front of everyone. Instead I just pull out my phone and, beneath the table, send him a quick Hey, I’m over here text.
I watch as he reaches for his pocket, pulls out his phone, reads.
And then he turns, offers me a wan little smile over his shoulder without actually making eye contact—his eyes swim somewhere above my head—and turns back.
My brain is a blender. Mom’s voice pushes to the surface again, calming, reminding me that Sebastian is leaving soon and has pressures I’ll never understand. What if this was the first time he prayed and felt worse afterward?
The class ticks by in enormous, redwood-size chunks while I continue to spiral. Almost everyone is done drafting, and Fujita is giving us tips on revisions. At least I think he is. I’m glad Autumn is taking meticulous notes because I’m not catching a word of it. Instead, I bend, crouching over my Post-it, writing,
THE MOON WAS GONE,
LEAVING ONLY THE YELLOWING GLOW OF THE LAMPS BEHIND US.
DIRT ROAD STRETCHED BACKWARD FOR ETERNITY
AND FOR ONCE WE WERE ALONE.
I’D TAKE THE HEAT OF YOU ON THIS TINY CAR
EVERY DAY
OVER THE MEMORY OF YOU IN MY BED.
IN MY HAND, SO HEAVY.
A LIFETIME OF WANT, FILLING MY PALM.
YOU BIT MY NECK WHEN YOU CAME
AND THEN KEPT YOUR EYES CLOSED WHEN YOU KISSED ME.
And doing everything I can to not stare at him.
• • •
I grab my things and am out the door seconds after the bell rings. Autumn calls after me, but I keep going. I’ll text her later and explain. I’m at the end of the hall when I hear my name. It’s not Autumn.
“Tanner, wait up.”
My feet slow, even though I don’t want them to.
“Hey.” I keep my eyes glued to the span of lockers near me. I shouldn’t do this right now; I’m hurt and mad and embarrassed by his avoidance, and afraid of what I might say.
“‘Hey’?” he says back, obviously confused. And it’s no wonder; I think this is the first time he’s been the one to come after me.
Standing in the middle of the hall, we’re like a stone in the river, a steady stream of students moving to make their way around us. I wouldn’t describe this spot as inconspicuous, but if he’s here, I’m here.
“Were you headed to class?” he asks.
I don’t know why the storm is choosing this second to build inside me. Why this moment? Why now? Everything was so good this weekend. We had one day of silence and one weird interaction in class and boom—my brain is taking this to DEFCON-1 levels of panic.
I’m back on the mountain, hearing him say, Not . . . that. I’m not gay.
And there’s something today, some set in his jaw, some weird lean in his posture away from me that tells me Saturday did more harm than good. He’s fighting something, and he doesn’t even know it. He’s so far buried in his own dogma and his own world of shoulds that he can’t admit to himself that he’s into dudes, that he’ll always be into dudes, that it’s a piece of him, a perfect part of him, and it deserves admiration and respect and space the same way anything else about him does.
“It’s the end of the day,” I tell him. “I was going home.”
He shakes his head. “Right, I knew that. Tanner, I’m s—”
Sebastian never gets to finish that thought, because Manny is coming toward us. “Hey, guys,” he says, smiling in our direction.
But he doesn’t just say “Hey,” he says “Hey, guys.” Not like we’re two people, but like we’re two people together. Like we’re a couple. When I look over to gauge Sebastian’s reaction, I know he made the distinction too.
Jesus, Manny. Would it be possible for you to be supportive more quietly?
“Manny, hi,” Sebastian says.
I blink away and nod toward Manny’s letterman’s jacket. “Game tonight?” I’m careful to keep my voice conversational, despite feeling like a constellation of small explosions have started inside my chest. I never told Sebastian about the conversation with Manny. I never told him that he knows.
“Yeah, basketball. Listen, we’re opening my pool this weekend, and I wanted to invite you both over. It’ll be a few kids from here, some of my brother’s friends . . .” He pauses, eyes going from me, to Sebastian, to me again, and if I had to guess what we look like based on his expression, it’s bad. He turns to me. “But, Tanner, it’s not the guys from the lake. Everyone will be cool, so you don’t have to worry or anything.”
Sebastian’s head tilts slowly to the side before he asks, “What do you mean?”
The air leaves my lungs in a rush.
Manny’s eyes go wide, and the only way this would be more awkward would be if Manny opened with You guys are the cutest couple. “I just mean . . .” He looks to me for help. “Sorry, I saw you guys on a hike the other week and thought . . .”
All the blood drains from Sebastian’s face.
“Manny—” I start, but he waves me off.
“Nah, guys, I get it. Whatever. You’re both invited, or—either of you, separately, whatever works.” He’s such an easygoing guy, and I hope it comforts Sebastian that he clearly couldn’t care one way or another what we do together, but Sebastian is like a statue beside me. With a quick glance over his shoulder, Manny is gone, and Sebastian turns on me.
Oh, shit.
“What did you tell him?”
I hold up my hands. “Whoa—I didn’t tell him anything. He just said he saw us on a hike.”
God. Which hike? There are so many now, and over time we just got so comfortable being on the mountain, kissing like we were behind closed doors. The idea that Manny saw some of that . . . that maybe someone was with him . . . My stomach feels like a bubbling cauldron.
Sebastian turns, and his profile is a portrait of tight anger. This is probably the first second I feel like we’re actually a couple. How ironic, too, that it’s happening while we’re at school, the halls thinning out but for a few stragglers here and there who have no idea we’re together, that we’ve kissed, that I’ve seen what he looks like when he’s lost to pleasure, that I’ve watched him cry and held his hand. That I’ve seen his generosity and felt that pride I feel when I realized he’s mine. None of those moments feel as real, as coupley, as this one right here, where I know we’re about to start arguing in earnest.
“What happened at the lake?”
“Some guys were being dicks, and he came up to me and Autumn after and said—”
His voice rises several pitches. “Autumn knows too?”
Someone passes, and Sebastian startles to attention, rearranging his features into the mask and giving her a mild, “Hi, Stella.”
When she’s gone, I lead him out the door next to us, to the parking lot. It’s dead out here—like, there are no students in this lot, no teachers, barely anyone walking down the sidewalk—but even still, Sebastian keeps a healthy distance from me. A Mormon distance, my mind sneers.
