reverberate inside my head.
Dad: Goddamn pussy,
that’s what he was.
Goddamn coward, and
a waste of talent. I can’t
stand crap like that.
Doug: He’s a dick licker,
dude. He’s gonna burn
in a fiery pit. Don’t that
bother you just a little?
Hayden: Maybe it’s because
you’re like your brother.
Judah says it’s possible.
Alexa: I’d never do
that to a friend.
Jocelyn: She. Still. Does.
I Turn on My Right Side
Flip to my left, jam my pillow
over my face. But nothing I do
can quell the stream of memories.
Finally, I give up trying to sleep
without pharmaceutical aid and
wander down the hall to the bathroom,
where Martha’s sweet little helpers
await. I swallow two, head back
to bed. Passing my parents’ bedroom,
I hear voices beyond the door. Dad’s.
And one that’s unfamiliar. Female.
Most definitely not Mom’s. Damn!
Can’t he wait until a day or three after
he and Mom are, in fact, divorced?
A woman in his room, in the gray
soup of early morning, can only mean
one thing. What if Mom came home
suddenly? That he isn’t worried
about that can only mean one thing,
too. Why won’t they just talk to me?
I’ve handled a lot worse things.
As the Meds Kick In
The conversations inside
my thickening head begin
to mute. Only one person
remains, more obstinate
in death than he ever was,
maneuvering this world.
Luke, musing:
What if aliens came from
more than one planet? And
some of those guys sucked.
Like, they were mean and
stupid. And when they mated
with monkeys, the people who
came from them ended up
being mean and stupid, too.
I think you had something
there, Lukester.
Luke, freaking:
Oh shit! Matt! Come here.
Look what someone posted
on my page. And check out
the comments. Who? Who’d
do this? Who knew? Who told?
Not me, Luke. I never said
a word to anyone. Promise.
Luke, coping:
They’ll get tired of picking
on me sooner or later, right?
They’ll get bored, or something.
Or find somebody new, someone
weaker to prey on. Right?
I thought so, too, or I would have
gone after them. I didn’t want
to make things worse for you.
Luke, withdrawing:
Why do they hate me?
I never tried to touch them.
Never even looked at them
creepily in the locker room.
He flashed his dick at me,
asked if I’d suck it good.
Who’s the queer? Right?
Compelling question.
One I never asked that prick.
But I should have.
Plunging Toward Sleep
Unable to stop the fall
now, even if I wanted to,
still I remember one last,
the last, exchange, in fact,
I’d ever have with my
totally lost little brother.
Luke, vacillating:
Hey, Matt? I love you.
Not in a gay way, in case
you think I’m also a perv.
I wish we’d have more time.
But I can’t take it anymore.
This is the only way out.
Me, distracted:
“Hey. Don’t mess around.
I’ll be home in a while and
we can talk this through.”
Luke, deciding:
Tired of talking. At some
point, you just have to find
the balls to step off the chair.
Hope saying “balls” didn’t
make you uncomfortable.
Me, Dismissing
I thought
he was being
melodramatic.
Not like he’d never
been that before.
I told him
to wait. Expected
he’d listen. He’d always
listened to me before.
I should
have gone.
Should
have hurried.
Should
have pleaded.
I
should
have
promised
to make
it all
right.
I Ascend
From the depths of dreamless
sleep, surface the lake of late-
morning light. Lie motionless
for a minute or two, trying to
make sense of the hangover
rocking. Part pharm. Part guilt.
I crawl from the covers, limp
to the bathroom, in giant need
of a piss. On the return trip,
I remember the noises emanating
from the master bedroom and
pause in the hallway to listen.
Not sure what for, exactly, because
were I to catch wind of my dad
boinking his girlfriend in my mom’s
bed, I’d probably blow it. Speaking
of girlfriends, I need to call mine,
and the importance of that thuds
in my head. I go to my room, locate
my phone, check for messages.
I find one. It’s simple, and from
Alexa, not Hayden. HAPPY V. DAY.
I Think It Over
Decide to respond with
a simple, RIGHT BACK AT YA.
No use hurting her feelings.
Then I call Hayden, who
is surprisingly cheerful.
And why did I feel the need
to attach “surprisingly” to
the “cheerful”? Regardless,
“Happy Valentine’s Day,
my beautiful lady. I made
a six thirty reservation at
Stacy’s. Hope that’s okay.”
It’s my family’s favorite
special occasion restaurant,
not haute cuisine, but good.
“I was hoping we could get
together earlier, though.
I want to give you your present,
and I really do want to talk.
It’s cool, but the sun is out.
We could take a walk or ride bikes.”
She Chooses the Latter
Almost too enthusiastically.
This day will either be very,
very good or total suckage.
We agree to meet at Bohemia Park,
where we can catch the paved
bike trail that skirts the river and
Dorena Lake. Hayden’s already
there when I arrive, and I catch
my breath at the way the afternoon
sun glints off her hair, haloing
that amazing face. I tuck her gift
in the pocket of my flannel vest,
unload my bike from the bed of
the truck, all the while staring at
my girl. I open my arms, and when
she slides into them, everything feels
as it should. We kiss, and my upside-
down world turns itself right again.
Her lips are soft puffs, flavo
red
raspberry, and suddenly I’m hungry
for more of her. Starving for her
skin, bare against mine, the warm
of her, the wet of her. Without
pulling back, I talk into her mouth.
“I love you. I love you. And I want
you.” My hands underscore that desire,
and that makes her tell me, Stop.
You’re turning that old guy on.
Sure enough, maybe ten feet away,
some creepster man is ogling us.
“We’d better go before he pulls
it out and whacks off right here.”
Matt! Sometimes you’re really
disgusting, you know that?
“Me? I’m disgusting? Disgusting
would be if he did pull it out. Let’s go.”
The Trail
Is in decent shape, considering
it’s February. It’s a little slick
in places where overhanging trees
have dropped leaves to rot in the rain,
but Hayden and I are familiar
with these, so use care. I let her
ride ahead of me so I can observe
her slender form, rather stunning
in clingy jeans. The river is high
along the mostly level terrain,
its song loud as it rushes over
the rocks. Too loud to talk above,
so we keep pedaling all the way to
the Dorena Covered Bridge.
It’s a favored place for weddings
in the summer and fall, but few
want to chance the weather in winter,
so even on Valentine’s Day it’s quiet.
And this romantic location is where
we stop. We sit on the railing, and
I find myself slightly winded. “Man.
I need to get more exercise. I think
I’ve got enough air for a kiss, though.”
She smiles. Only if you promise
to be a perfect gentleman.
“What for? There aren’t any dirty old
men hanging around. And anyway,
you’re the only one who’s perfect.”
The kiss is also perfect, and it’s like
I’ve got the old Hayden back, the one
who fell as intensely in love with me
as I did with her. Is she really here
with me? Is it because we’re so all
alone, away from her friends and father
and nonjudgmental minister who does
nothing but judge? The intensity builds
and my body responds, but I keep
my hands away from everything
they’re begging to touch. “Just so you
know, being a gentleman sucks.”
Her Response
Is an easy laugh,
and its music is infectious.
When was the last time
we laughed together like this?
It makes me bold enough
to reach into my pocket
for the little foil-wrapped box.
“Happy Valentine’s Day.”
The size of the box throws her.
She looks at me, a mixture
of curiosity and fear
in her eyes. What is it?
“Only one way to find out.”
Still she hesitates,
and a mad jolt of fury
flashes. “Don’t worry.
Even your Judah
would approve.”
Her entire body stiffens.
He’s not my Judah.
Does everything have to
come back to him?
Quick! Damage Control
Don’t mess this up
now, dimwad. The anger
bolt fades to black.
“No. It doesn’t, and I’m sorry.
Really, I am . . .”
(Aren’t you sick of asking
for forgiveness? )
“I’m an idiot, okay?
A jealous jerk, and I know
it, and I’m trying desperately
to work on it. Just, please
take your present. I looked
all over to find just the right
thing, and I knew this was
it the minute I saw it.”
(We do need to talk.)
Her shoulders relax,
but her hand quivers
as she reaches for the box,
opens to find an emerald
pendant shaped like an angel.
“To go with that sweater I like.”
Hayden Melts
Into a sticky mess,
warm, luscious caramel.
It’s beautiful! Thank you.
But I—I . . . All I got
you is a card.
“I don’t care. I just want
you to be happy. I just
want you to love me.”
Now it’s me who goes
all soft. “I don’t want to
lose you, Hayden, and
I feel you slipping away.”
She looks down at
the necklace, as if deciding
whether or not to keep it.
Then she lifts her eyes
again to meet mine.
Both pairs glisten tears.
She hands me the pendant,
turns her back, lifts her hair.
Fasten it for me, please?
The gesture is incredibly sexy,
the wavy wisps at the nape
of her neck so beautiful,
that I fumble the clasp
twice. Finally, I manage
to close it. Then I lower
my lips to her neck.
“An angel for my angel.”
I kiss the circumference
of skin just below her jaw,
turn her to face me.
She closes her eyes,
my lips to hers, I open
the top button of her soft
flannel shirt and kiss down
the V to where the necklace
hangs. She trembles and I pause.
“Sometimes it’s really hard
to stop. Don’t you
ever want to?”
Of course. I want to right
now. But I can’t. I won’t.
Not until I get married.
I Step Away
Seems to me like being here,
teasing me and tempting
herself, is little more than
a form of self-flagellation.
But I shall remain wordless
on the subject. I take her hand.
Overcome by romance—not
to mention the need to cool
things off just a bit—I say,
“Lots of people get married
on this bridge. You’d want
a church wedding, though.”
Absolutely. I’d never consider
any other kind. The reception
could be outdoors. Not the ceremony.
“Not even if your fiancé asked
you to change your mind?”
I’m treading rocky territory.
I can tell because she extricates
her hand from mine. My fiancé
would know me better than that.
Nothing But the Truth
I sidestep the possible subtext,
eager to avoid upsetting the tenor
of this day. “Maybe we should
start back. A predinner shower
is probably in order.” I sniff
my armpits dramatically. “Phew!
Definitely in order. Don’t want
someone confusing me with the brie.”
She laughs that crystal-pure laugh
and I think I may have crossed over
that rough patch of ground. Ever hear
of an invention called deodorant?
&nb
sp; “Sure, baby. But even the strongest
antiperspirant can’t touch this manly
smell.” We hit the return, and when
we reach town, agree I’ll pick her up
at six fifteen. She cycles to her house.
I take my truck and when I get home,
there’s no one there. Not Dad. Not
Lorelei. But when I peek into the master
bedroom, there’s plenty of evidence
of her visit, my dad’s obsessive neatness
totally denied by the ridiculous state
of the bed. Unmade does not come close
to describing the blankets, tossed
to the floor, and the sheets, completely
untucked by whatever action they had
going on. And the most damning proof
of all—a pair of lady’s lacy panties,
tangled in a pair of Dad’s boxers at the foot
of the bed. Half-disgusted, half-envious,
I head to the shower, already hard from what
I just witnessed, coupled with my earlier
encounter with Hayden. But the scent
of the soap and the smooth lick of lather
remind me of only one person. Alexa.
Traitor
That’s what I am.
A slimy
(satiated),
no good
(definitely
could be better),
cheating
(can’t argue with that),
masculine stereotype.
I am a soap opera.
I dress in my best
imitation GQ outfit—
crisp chinos, button-down
chamois, decent suit jacket.
Think about a tie,
but decide against it.
No use going overboard.
Just for fun, I leave
my dirties in a small heap
in front of the clothes hamper.
At least there aren’t any girl’s
pretties piled in with them.
We Hit Our Reservation
A few minutes early and have
to wait. I’m admiring the angel
hanging in the scoop of Hayden’s
green sweater when I hear a familiar
laugh at the back of the room.
It’s Dad, and he’s not alone, which
might not be so bad except pretty
much everyone here knows their high
school’s basketball coach. And
they also realize his Valentine’s Day
date is not his wife. “Excuse me
for a minute.” I leave Hayden behind
and make my way to the offending
couple. Dad tears his gaze away from
Lorelei, who is not so all that, if you ask