JESUS FUCKING CHRIST FUCK
Why did I do that?
Fuck.
Fuck fuck fucking fuck.
Why did I do that? What the fuck is wrong with me?
College. That was the deal. Get into Northwestern, get an apartment, and get out of Moorestown. Then. Then. Fucking THEN, SANDRO.
I’m such a fucking idiot. I’m such a goddamn stupid fucking stupid animal.
FUCK.
He didn’t say anything. Not a word. Not in the ditch, not on the walk, not on the drive. He just stared at the trail. And the road. I could hear my crutches rattling in his truck bed and I had to just focus on that. Focus on that and not say or do anything else.
I couldn’t look at him. It was pointless. There was nothing to see on his face. No anger. No disgust. No thought. Nothing. He parked at the top of my driveway and I couldn’t get out. I couldn’t go home. Not without knowing. I needed to know what he was keeping off his face.
“I’m sorry.”
But he wouldn’t look at me. I got out and he left. Left me with all my questions. Who’s he gonna tell? What’s he gonna do? Why did he kiss me back? Why would he kiss my neck? Why did he stop?
I didn’t sleep. Maybe I did, I can’t tell. It was five in the morning when I got in and if I ever fell asleep, the van woke me back up. The attic’s walls are thin and I can always hear my dad and Gio leave for work in the morning. Miceli Repairs. Relief sighed out of me. They wouldn’t see. They wouldn’t smell it on me. ’Cause they’d know. I know they would. They’d read it on my face. In my mind.
Dirty.
Stupid.
Faggot.
I snuck down to the shower and got to work. Face, feet, hands, nails, face, hands, arms, ears, pits, chest, back, hair. I scrubbed everything twice. Used up all the hot water but powered through. Three different bodywashes. Ma’s nice soap. Anything to get the stink off me. I closed my eyes to rinse the shampoo out of my hair and I saw Bash’s face. When he pulled away from my kiss. Shock. Like I’d punched him awake. And I felt his hand on my neck. When he dragged me back to him. His lips on my neck. The moan I didn’t mean to make.
I threw up on the shower floor and started my washing from the top.
I brushed my teeth. Gargled. Flossed. Gargled again. Brushed one more time. The mirror was all foggy. I tried wiping it but it just got streaky. I took stock of myself. Scrubbed all raw and red. Eyes bloodshot. Hungover. Teeth looked good though. I read somewhere you can fool yourself into feeling happy if you try hard enough. So, I tried smiling at my reflection. My mouth hurt and I could only get up to this sort of grin.
Weak.
I thought it might be good to get some food in me. The ziti would for sure be gone but I emptied my stomach in the shower and one more time in the sink so anything would work. Ma was studying for her licensing exam at the stove, beating the shit out of scrambled eggs with one hand and holding my screaming niece in the other. I asked her if she needed help and hoped she’d let me take over the eggs. I wasn’t so lucky and spent the next ten minutes trying to keep Lexi from screaming in my ear. She’s never not screaming and, hangover or not, it makes me want to puke. The other niblings were watching cartoons at the kitchen table. Neither responded to my “good morning.” Ma was running through a list of things she needed to get done today and asked me to chime in if I heard something I could do instead.
“I’ve got packages coming ’round noon, you can sign for’m, just use my signature. Should be two boxes, the big one’s wine so be careful. My exam’s at two then I have to get over to Haddonfield to get Tina’s cake. Her scout troop is celebrating all the summer birthdays at once and guess who got volunteered to host? Anyway, then I got to grab some ledgers from the office before they close and you know how Linda likes to close early without telling anyone.”
That’s the thing with Ma. She’ll go twelve days without a word to me then a flood’ll break out. Like I’m her assistant and she just got back from a long lunch. The mention of books reminded me of all the summer reading I’d been putting off. I was taking Ms. Morgan’s AP lit because I hate myself and we were supposed to come in day one having already read three of her twelve books. I’m not really a reader. I’m more of a math guy but I figured if I could knock out a Lit credit in some no-stakes high school class, I can focus on math in college. I had a lot of plans for college.
“I need to go to the library so I could swing by the office. If Raph can drive.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Just walk, it’s so close.”
Should’ve expected that. I reminded her what Dr. Kizer said about walking on my foot and she looked at me like I’d cut off her hand. Obviously, she knows what the doctor said. Obviously, I shouldn’t run a marathon on my foot. And, obviously, I shouldn’t have fallen off the goddamn roof in the first place. Obviously.
I apologized for some reason and told her I’d have a friend drive me.
I got dressed then undressed. Considered just crawling back into bed. Trying to sleep through the hangover. Through the day. Maybe if I made it to tomorrow, everything would be okay. Maybe Bash would forget by then. Or maybe I’d die in my sleep. A lot of pros to going back to bed. But I knew I wouldn’t sleep. My brain was working overtime and I could feel the heat working up my spine. I still hadn’t eaten because I could feel myself getting angry in the kitchen. Angry at Ma. Angry at my foot. Angry at myself. I needed to leave. Leave the house. But I couldn’t escape to the roof and I knew what was coming. I was gonna overheat and freak out. Someone would hear and it would all be over.
When I get upset, I can’t control myself. I don’t keep myself in check. Like if Ma caught me crying and shit, there’s a good chance I’d tell her why. I’d tell her how I finally kissed a boy. How I ruined everything. My judgment would get clouded and I’d think she’d be able to help.
With sober eyes, I know what would actually happen. She wouldn’t hear me. She’d tell me it was just a stupid mistake. That I was confused. Didn’t know what I was saying. She’d tell me I was breaking her heart and we’d never speak of it again. She wouldn’t give me the time.
So, I needed to leave. I needed to get to my ditch. I wish I had other options. I really didn’t want to go back there. But home felt even worse so I grabbed my crutches and got on my way.
Square Field was also hungover. I’d never related to a dead patch of grass before, but this week was full of firsts. I hobbled across the mess, dodging the crushed cans and broken bottles. All the cigarette butts and beer barf were baking in the hot sun. If I had anything left to puke, the smell of the Olympic aftermath would’ve got me there.
I was surprised how easy it was to get to the ditch in the dark. It was a bit of a slog today. I think I was worried what I’d find. Halfway down the trail, I had the thought that Bash might be waiting for me there. A trap. He’d have Matty with him and they’d get me back for last night. Make sure I don’t do it to anyone else.
But he wasn’t. The ditch was just how I left it. The beer we shared was still sitting there. I kicked it across the ditch. Like it was the beer’s fault. Well, it sort of was. Not that one in particular but beer overall. I never would have done what I did sober. And I did have a lot to drink.
I rested on the incline and looked up at the trees. The sky. Listened to the birds. One called. Another answered. I just looked up and breathed. Let myself calm down. Let the anger run back down my spine.
But I wasn’t that drunk. Last night. I’d switched to soda, I wasn’t that drunk. I could still run through the woods. I could still find the ditch. We weren’t that drunk. I’d made sure of it. I just needed to. Bash looked so beautiful in the moon and I could feel it. That it was worth it. The way he looked. The way he looked at me. Like it might be okay. Like he might need someone too.
I was wrong. I scared him. I ruined it all.
The anger shot through my spine and I boiled over. My breathing got all fast and catchy and sobs hurt my throat on their way out. It was too much. Everything. All the time. I turned over, on my stomach, and pressed my face into the grass. I screamed. I punched. I let everything run out of me. Into the ground. My pain shook the earth and I wished it would open up and take me.