Circumstances 17

“You’re not nuts, you know?”

I didn’t answer.  I thought I was a little nuts.  I was happy he didn’t think so, however, and I didn’t want to argue the point.

We were in the bathroom, I in my briefs, he in his boxers, brushing our teeth.

“You’ve had a crappy life so far, but you’re not nuts.  Do you have nightmares often?”

“No.”  I frowned.  “Sometimes.  Not often.  I’ve had a bad week.  Maybe that’s part of it.  But I think it was the TV.  The people were yelling at each other.  I don’t like that.”

He nodded and spat.

“You’re, uh, not going to tell anyone, are you?” I asked. 

“Duh!” he said, sarcastically.  “You think I would?”  He sounded annoyed, or mad.  I hate mad.  I looked at him in the mirror, trying to see if he was really mad. 

“No,” he said, making it very clear, “I won’t tell anyone.  Didn’t you think I meant it when I said I wanted us to be best friends?”

“Yeah, but that was before you knew how messed up I am.”

“You’re not that messed up.  You deal with things just fine, as far as I can tell.  If I’d been faced with everything you have, I’d be a basket case.  No father—well, no father anymore and the one you had said he didn’t like you—a critical, bitchy mother, no love in your home, then everything that’s happened this week?  Jesus!”

I wasn’t used to people taking my side, or complimenting me.  I never quite knew how to react.  I had to figure it out, intellectually, as emotionally it made me all fuzzy.  I thought for a moment, then smiled and said, “Thanks.”

He met my eyes in the mirror, then put his arm around my shoulder and hugged me to him for a moment.

I was glad it was just a moment, because I felt some tingling when he did that.  There wasn’t anything sexual in his hug, he was just being a friend, but my body wasn’t good at making fine distinctions like that.

We got dressed and went downstairs.  His mother was at the stove, and the smell of bacon and coffee filled the kitchen.  When she saw us, she smiled and then poured some pancake batter onto a griddle.

When we were eating, Mrs. Jenks poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down with us.  She watched me eat for a few moments, took a sip of her coffee, then asked, “Do you want me to talk to your mother?”

I swallowed.  “No, but, uh, thanks.”  I get embarrassed easily.  So shoot me.  She was watching me, so I had to keep talking.  “You have to know my mother.  She’s very intense, very focused, very assertive.  I think that’s one reason my father left.  There were lots of reasons, but she wouldn’t give an inch on anything, and he kept telling her a marriage was about sharing and compromise and being a team, and she never made any effort to do any of those things.  So he had had enough.  It’s taken a long time, but I don’t blame myself for it anymore.  Well, maybe I’m still working on that a little.  But I know it was their problem, maybe mostly her problem, and I didn’t have much to do with it.”

Gary spoke up then.  “You told me things were better with her now.”

I nodded.  “After you said what you did to her, she did realize what she’d been doing, and we talked, and that helped.  It helped a lot, right then.  She’s been trying.  She is a little better now, but she’s still the same person she’s always been.  A person can’t change just like that, not when they’re like she is.”  I stopped and turned from Gary to look at his mother.  “She’ll never be a soft, loving, supportive mother.  She’s not criticizing me so much now, unless she’s tired, and she listens better now, but, well, she’ll never be like you, Mrs. Jenks.”

I blushed a little, saying that, but she got a really warm smile on her face, then got up and hugged me.  Man, I could get used to those hugs.  It embarrassed me, but not so much that I wanted her to stop doing it.

Gary and I went back upstairs after breakfast.  We played a video game, and he was his usual cheerful self.  As I sat playing with him, I kept glancing at him.  I couldn’t help but think about how different we were, how self-confident he was, how outgoing, how happy.  The fact he was handsome with a great body kept seeping into my consciousness, too.  Maybe too much.

I guess thinking about all that affected my play, and he noticed.

“Hey, that was an easy target and you didn’t even shoot at it.  What’s going on?”

“Nothing.  I just didn’t see it.”

“You missed some other things, too.  You’re not paying attention, are you?”

“Am too.”

“Well, not to the game.  What are you paying attention to?”

I looked at him, he was staring at me, and I dropped my eyes.  “I don’t know.  Let’s do something else.”

He was silent for a moment, then put down his controller and turned off the game.  “OK.  Want to go to the mall, hang out there?”

“NO.”

He wrinkled his forehead.  “Why not?  Everyone goes to the mall.”

“I know.  Everyone but me.  I don’t like crowds much.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, and then his face changed.  He stood up, so I did too.  “I know.  Let’s go swimming.”

“Swimming?  I don’t have a suit, and I’m not much of a swimmer anyway.”

“You don’t need a suit, and practice will make you better, and we’ll have fun, and it’ll be just the two of us.  Jeeze, Keith, you have reasons not to do anything at all.  Stop with the excuses.  We’re going to have fun.  Now take your clothes off.”