I S A A C
We were in Eddie's room, studying in bed, the last of the day's sunlight coming in through the window, making everything warm, and bright, and nice, when Jacob called his phone. I was sitting across from him, my legs on top of his, trying to make sense of the words on my textbook, and failing, again, and again, but I stopped to look at him.
"I should probably pick up," he said, touching the back of his neck, the way he always did when he didn't know what else to do. The heat of the day had forced him to roll up the sleeves of his sweatshirt and I could see the veins in his arm pushing against his skin.
I said, "You should."
He did. I looked back at my textbook, and tried some more.
Eddie said, "Hi."
On the other side, so did Jacob. I wasn't going to listen to their conversation, but it was hard not to. I could hear Jacob's voice like he was in the room next door.
He was saying, "I'm sorry it took me so long to call you back. I've been in bed for the past few days."
"Oh," Eddie said. "Are you sick?"
"Yeah," he said. "Stomach bug."
"Sorry to hear that."
"I saw you got offered a scholarship."
Eddie had signed a contract to play for a prestigious college out of state. We had gone out for food to celebrate. He had posted it on social media. Jacob must have seen it.
"Congratulations," he said. "You must be really fucking happy."
"Yeah, I am," Eddie said. "What about you?"
"What about me?"
"Have you heard from any colleges?"
"No," he said. "And I don't think I will to be honest."
"Why not? There's still time. I don't think a stomach bug is â"
"Maybe, I don't know," he stopped him. "At this point, I don't even know if I'm going to finish high school."
"I don't understand, you â"
"Well, it's not easy being the disappointment of the family, but someone's gotta do it." There was silence for a while, then Jacob said, "So you and Isaac..."
I looked at Eddie, saw him turn red, his hand still on his neck, "Yeah."
"I had no idea." Right. "I'm really sorry if I ever made you feel uncomfortable about it. I was just trying to be funny. I'm really happy for you."
Eddie looked at the wall where he had put up a picture of us, and said, "Thank you."
"Yeah, well, you deserve it," Jacob said. "I gotta go but thanks for checking up on me."
"When do you think you're coming back to school?"
"I don't know. When I get rid of this thing, I guess."
"Right, the stomach bug," Eddie said. "If you need anything, just â"
"Thanks," Jacob cut him off. "I really gotta go though."
"Of course, yeah." He hung up before Eddie could say anything else. I was still looking at him when he turned to me, and said, "I know you don't like him."
I shook my head, "I didn't say anything."
"You didn't have to." He smiled, leaning back against the headboard of his bed, a hickey on his neck from a few days ago, "You think I'm being an idiot."
I shook my head again, "No, I think you're a good friend."
"But you don't think I should be a good friend to him."
"No, I think you should do what you think is right."
"What if I'm wrong?"
I shrugged, "It doesn't matter. It's who you are."
"An idiot." He smiled.
"No," I said again. "A fucking prince."
He smiled some more and shook his head like he didn't agree. Then he said, "When we were kids, we used to spend all day playing football together. We would pretend there was a crowd watching us and cheering us on, and on, and on. And we would make up a broadcast of the whole thing, and play out the interviews after too, imagine we were getting all these awards, and honorable mentions, and so much money, you have no idea."
I smiled and waited for more.
"We used to share our dreams like it was some kind of snack, like a pack of chips, both of us reaching inside of it, and none of us really caring who got the bigger hand. I don't know what happened to us."
"You grew up," I said. "There's nothing wrong with that."
"We'll never be those kids again, I know that, I do, but I can't just stop caring about him."
"I know," I said. "There's nothing wrong with that either."
"I'm sorry." He smiled. "I know you're tired of listening to me talk about this â"
"Don't be an idiot. I would listen to anything if it meant I could stop studying for at least a while. I've been reading the same sentence over and over again for almost half an hour."
This made him laugh, and say, "Just a few more months and you won't have to study again for a year."
He was talking about my gap year. I didn't want to go to college right after the summer. I wanted travel around the country, maybe around the world. I had told him about this. I thought he was going to be upset, but of course he wasn't. He would never ask me to give up something over him, and even if I wanted to, he wouldn't let me. We would make it work. He promised.
I pushed my book off my lap so I could lay on my side next to him, "I found a volunteer program that sends people out on a mission to clean up the shorelines. I think I'll do that."
He ran his fingers through my hair, "You should."
"I'll start in September, so we can still spend the summer together, and then you can join me for Christmas. I think I'll be somewhere up north by then, so we can go ski, if you want. And we can meet again for spring break, and then again for the summer. What do you think? I'll send you postcards from every place I go to, I promise."
"I believe you," he said, still smiling.
I propped myself up on my elbow, "You won't forget about me?"
"You're not someone people forget," he said.
I smiled, "But there's people and then there's you."
He shook his head, "I'll never forget you."
I kissed his neck, "I won't forget you either."
When I pushed his books away from his lap, he leaned closer to kiss my cheek, and when I moved on top of him, my mouth. We had made a sport out of kissing, and like everything else, he did it exceptionally well, his hands on my face, mine under his sweatshirt and his t-shirt underneath, holding onto the headboard of his bed, letting go of it only to take it all off him, and help him take mine off too.
He was smiling when I leaned in to kiss him again, and again, and again, and when my hand moved down to the waist of his jeans, he was breathing hard, and I was hardly breathing.
Then the door opened. We pulled away. Eddie's dad was standing by the door, hand still on the handle, his eyes on us. We hadn't heard him knock. Had he even knocked? Did it even matter?
Without a word, he stepped back into the hallway and closed the door behind him.
Eddie said, "Fuck."
"You haven't told him yet?"
I had told my parents. They said I knew how to pick them. But Eddie shook his head and got up to find his clothes. I didn't mind. I knew his parents weren't like mine. It was fine.
Every morning, when I got in his car, he leaned in to kiss me, and every morning, he would get there earlier, so we could take our time. Once, I fell asleep on the passenger seat of his car on the way home from practice and he never woke me up. He just parked in front of my house and let me sleep. I woke up hours later to him doing homework on the driver's seat, the sun hitting the windshield as it went down on the horizon.
I watched him put on his t-shirt backwards now, then noticed it wasn't even his t-shirt, it was mine, but I didn't say anything. I didn't think it mattered.
He ran a hand through his hair and made it for the door. I got up from the bed with a lump in my throat, and asked, "Do you want me to leave?"
He turned around to look at everything instead of me, as if inspecting the room for giveaways, standing right where his dad had been, his hand on the handle too. I thought the both of us making out in his bed gave away all there was to give, but I didn't tell him.
"No," he said after he was done. "Please don't leave. Just stay right there."
"It's gonna be fine."
He shook his head and opened the door, "I don't think so."
Then he left. I sat back down on his bed, heard him call for his dad out in the hallway, and got up again. I didn't know what to do, but it couldn't be nothing. I couldn't just sit and wait. I walked closer to the door.
On the other side of it, Eddie said, "I'm really sorry, Sir. We didn't hear you knock."
I hated that he called his dad Sir.
"Is he your boyfriend?" he asked.
And again, Eddie said, "I'm sorry."
I swallowed the lump in my throat. The palms of my hands were sweating.
"Why are you crying?" This was his dad, cold and dry.
I heard Eddie take a deep breath. Or maybe it was his dad.
"I really am sorry." This was all Eddie could say.
"For what?"
"I'm â"
"Are you using protection?"
I leaned closer. I must have heard it wrong.
"We're notâ We're not having sex."
"Yet," his dad said. I felt myself smile.
There was silence for a while and then steps coming my way. I walked back to the bed. His dad had asked him if I was his boyfriend, and Eddie hadn't answered, or if he had, I hadn't heard it. Once, at school, a girl stole his seat in class, and asked him if he wasn't going to sit with his boyfriend, and Eddie hadn't answered either. He had just walked away. I hadn't asked him about it. He had come to sit next to me after all, and he had touched my hand under the table, and class hadn't been bad at all.
He walked back inside the bedroom, wiping his face with both hands, and then turning his back at me, maybe so that I wouldn't see him cry. I didn't care. There was nothing wrong with crying. I had cried in front of him before. I remembered it like it was yesterday. He had walked closer to me and wrapped his arms around me in the dark of the night. I did the same to him now.
"What happened?"
He put his hand on my arm, and shrugged, "He just told me to turn the lights on. Said it was pitch dark in here."
I looked back at the window. I hadn't even realized the sun had set already.
Eddie turned the lights on, "Do you wanna stay for dinner?"
I leaned my head against his, "As your friend or â"
He smiled, "As my boyfriend."