to the gravel shoulder and slip the car into park.
I grin. “Oh my God, that’s totally Big!”
We hug and she starts to cry. It’s not long before I’m sobbing too. So we sit with the car running on the side of the road, blubbering at each other.
“Why is it a secret?” I ask. “You have to tell M and D.”
She grimaces. “You just graduated. This is your time. I’ll tell them before I go home.” Shan used to eat up all of our parents’ fussing. She lost her appetite when I came out. Now she prefers to stay out of the spotlight, hoping a little will spill on me. It’s a nice gesture, but it hasn’t worked yet.
I take the biggest breath I’ve ever taken. She trusts me. And if I’m going to pull things off tonight, I have to trust her. I must be fucking crazy.
“Okay. Listen. I’ve got a Big too.”
Shan wipes her eyes. “You little turd, holding out on me—”
“You know, if you don’t want to hear—”
“Okay, cry havoc and let slip the Big.”
It sticks in my throat. It’s like coming out all overagain, only that was something I had to say so I could go on with my life. I’m afraid that if I reveal this, my life won’t go on. Everything will come to an end. But she’s trusted me with something huge (okay, something that time and an expanding belly will betray) and I feel obligated to respond in kind.
When I hesitate, she ups the ante with, “I mean, it’s not like you could top my Big but, hey, take yer best shot and we’ll—”
“I have a boyfriend.”
I have only ever whispered this to myself in bed at night.
I have a boyfriend.
I have a boyfriend.
I, Evan Daniel Weiss, have a boyfriend named Erik James Goodhue. And he rocks.
Here, now, in full voice, the sentence detonates and resonates. The car fills with noise, like the brakes squealing again. But it’s Shan shrieking, hands flailing. She reaches out and gathers me in close for another hug, this one spine-threatening. My stomach does a samba—she’s happy for me. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I’m glad this is what I got. Then she pulls back with a skeptical look.
“Um, Spud … we’re not talking COD, are we?” Cauldron Of Desperation. That’s her code name for Davis. It’s not that she doesn’t like him. Even during the years sheand I were fighting, I think she’d always been grateful that I had a friend. But she’s said that she doesn’t like the effect Davis has on me. I don’t know what that means.
I roll my eyes and we sit on the roadside for another ten minutes as I tell her about meeting Erik and his square-egg-shaped head and getting his phone number and calling him and going on that awkward first date and the less awkward date when he kissed me outside the Orpheum Theater and I skip over the dates in between and I tell her that he bought me flowers every Friday during the month of my birthday and about the stupid stories I told M and D about where the flowers came from and I share the silly list I’ve made in my head, alphabetizing his best features (Awesome kisser, Beautiful smile, Considerate, Dimples …) and how his friends all like me and the reason I’ve been driving like a nutjob is because we’re getting together tonight.
“I wanna meet him!”
For just a moment, I can’t hear the cars rushing by outside. I can’t hear the radio, which has been playing softly the entire ride home. I can only see the flashing red light on the dash, reminding me the hazards are on. It takes me roughly an hour to swallow and I gulp like I’m in a Tom and Jerry cartoon.
“Yeah.” I laugh nervously. “I’m gonna vote that idea off the island.”
Her eyes narrow. “Why?”
Trouble is, I don’t have a reason. But I can’t tell her that. “I dunno …” Once again, I see the pentimento. My home life seeping through the life I’ve forged with Erik. I can’t explain that I’m still not ready to make Erik real to anyone else. “Erik’s busy with school and stuff and … We’ll
I grin. “Oh my God, that’s totally Big!”
We hug and she starts to cry. It’s not long before I’m sobbing too. So we sit with the car running on the side of the road, blubbering at each other.
“Why is it a secret?” I ask. “You have to tell M and D.”
She grimaces. “You just graduated. This is your time. I’ll tell them before I go home.” Shan used to eat up all of our parents’ fussing. She lost her appetite when I came out. Now she prefers to stay out of the spotlight, hoping a little will spill on me. It’s a nice gesture, but it hasn’t worked yet.
I take the biggest breath I’ve ever taken. She trusts me. And if I’m going to pull things off tonight, I have to trust her. I must be fucking crazy.
“Okay. Listen. I’ve got a Big too.”
Shan wipes her eyes. “You little turd, holding out on me—”
“You know, if you don’t want to hear—”
“Okay, cry havoc and let slip the Big.”
It sticks in my throat. It’s like coming out all overagain, only that was something I had to say so I could go on with my life. I’m afraid that if I reveal this, my life won’t go on. Everything will come to an end. But she’s trusted me with something huge (okay, something that time and an expanding belly will betray) and I feel obligated to respond in kind.
When I hesitate, she ups the ante with, “I mean, it’s not like you could top my Big but, hey, take yer best shot and we’ll—”
“I have a boyfriend.”
I have only ever whispered this to myself in bed at night.
I have a boyfriend.
I have a boyfriend.
I, Evan Daniel Weiss, have a boyfriend named Erik James Goodhue. And he rocks.
Here, now, in full voice, the sentence detonates and resonates. The car fills with noise, like the brakes squealing again. But it’s Shan shrieking, hands flailing. She reaches out and gathers me in close for another hug, this one spine-threatening. My stomach does a samba—she’s happy for me. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I’m glad this is what I got. Then she pulls back with a skeptical look.
“Um, Spud … we’re not talking COD, are we?” Cauldron Of Desperation. That’s her code name for Davis. It’s not that she doesn’t like him. Even during the years sheand I were fighting, I think she’d always been grateful that I had a friend. But she’s said that she doesn’t like the effect Davis has on me. I don’t know what that means.
I roll my eyes and we sit on the roadside for another ten minutes as I tell her about meeting Erik and his square-egg-shaped head and getting his phone number and calling him and going on that awkward first date and the less awkward date when he kissed me outside the Orpheum Theater and I skip over the dates in between and I tell her that he bought me flowers every Friday during the month of my birthday and about the stupid stories I told M and D about where the flowers came from and I share the silly list I’ve made in my head, alphabetizing his best features (Awesome kisser, Beautiful smile, Considerate, Dimples …) and how his friends all like me and the reason I’ve been driving like a nutjob is because we’re getting together tonight.
“I wanna meet him!”
For just a moment, I can’t hear the cars rushing by outside. I can’t hear the radio, which has been playing softly the entire ride home. I can only see the flashing red light on the dash, reminding me the hazards are on. It takes me roughly an hour to swallow and I gulp like I’m in a Tom and Jerry cartoon.
“Yeah.” I laugh nervously. “I’m gonna vote that idea off the island.”
Her eyes narrow. “Why?”
Trouble is, I don’t have a reason. But I can’t tell her that. “I dunno …” Once again, I see the pentimento. My home life seeping through the life I’ve forged with Erik. I can’t explain that I’m still not ready to make Erik real to anyone else. “Erik’s busy with school and stuff and … We’ll
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