We laugh some more.
“So, now you know I’m gay. What about the two of you?”
“Well, I don’t know,” Latica says, quieter than usual. She puts her burger down and folds her hands in her lap. “To tell you the truth, I don’t think about it much. I spend most of my time obsessing over school and where I might go to college. And books! I like my nonfiction books. I also like to watch documentaries. If I must answer your question, I think I’m attracted to boys and girls. But I’m not sure. Neither Paul nor I have ever dated anyone before.”
“It’s counterproductive,” he says. “I’m not interested in dating during my teenage years. I love planes and aviation in general, and that’s enough for me right now. But you will be happy to know I have the rest of my life mapped out, and I know exactly when I will begin dating.”
“Well, don’t keep us waiting, Paul. Do tell. Inquiring minds want to know,” I say.
Paul sits up straighter in his chair and readies himself like he is about to go live on TV. His voice drops to a lower octave, and he sounds like an infomercial.
“After high school, I will go to an Ivy League college to study law. Then, I’ll move to Denver, Colorado and get a very high paying job. Only when I’m established in my job and new town will I start searching for a mate, or as you kids call it, dating. I will be a millionaire by the age of thirty and will then purchase my very own private plane. I will work long hours during the week, but I will fly my plane on the weekends for relaxation. At the age of thirty-two, I will marry a woman who will be aged somewhere between twenty-six and twenty-eight. We will have exactly one kid when I am thirty-four. At this point, I will get a vasectomy. I plan to retire early at the age of fifty-five and spend my senior years flying my planes. Did you catch the plural? I plan to own two planes by the time I retire.”
18
The Forgotten Paper in the Bottom of the Backpack
After lunch everyone goes their separate ways, so I head over to Starbucks to see if Hector is working. Marcy is making drinks with her phone firmly wedged between her shoulder and cheek. I don’t see Hector behind the counter, so I turn to leave.
“Hey, mijo! Simon, where are you going?”
I turn back to see Hector’s smiling face and muscled arms carrying three giant trash bags.
“Follow me. I’m taking the trash out back. We can chat while I work. How is the coming-out tour going?”
He hands me a trash bag, and I follow him through the store and out the back door to the dumpster.
“Pretty good. Guess what? I just came out to two more friends—Paul and Latica.”
“That’s fantastic news. Congratulations!”
“Thanks. And in the process, I learned that Latica might be bi, but she’s not sure. Paul, on the other hand, is…I don’t even know where to begin. He is straight, but a very special kind of straight.”
“Special kind?” Hector tosses all three giant trash bags effortlessly over the dumpster wall and gives me a look of curiosity.
“Yeah, he is kind of crazy. Like super crazy. I thought I was awkward and acted old-fashioned? Ha! That was before I got to know Paul Stevens. Wow! What a character he is. It turns out his acne is the most normal thing about him.”
“Okay, so he has acne. So what?” Hector holds the door open, and we walk back into Starbucks.
“No, you don’t understand. What I mean is, that’s the only normal teenage thing about him. He calls his mother by her first name, and he talks like he is eighty years old. He thinks teenage dating is counterproductive. He has his entire life planned out. He thinks he will be a millionaire by the age of thirty.”
“Well, that does sound ambitious. Yeah, he’s definitely loco.”
“I know. But despite Paul’s quirkiness, he’s a good guy, just a bit of an oddball, that’s all. He has been a good friend to me in the short time I have known him. He’s very supportive of me being gay. He thinks straight people are having too many children, whatever that means. He figured out on his own that I was falling hard for PJ.”
“Now that, mijo, doesn’t surprise me.” He pokes me with one finger in the chest.
“You will have to meet him and Latica too. Maybe I’ll bring them with me sometime when I visit. But damn, Paul, good luck finding a twenty-something wife who will put up with your BS. I don’t think that kind of woman exists.”
“Huh, I don’t understand, mijo. I thought he doesn’t want to date.”
“He doesn’t. Never mind, it’s complicated. I’m not even sure I understand myself. Okay, let’s get me an iced tea, and this time I am paying for it.”
After a busy evening of homework, helping Carole with the dishes, and texting with Mags and Neel, I’m now alone in the living room. Mom and Carole have gone to bed, and Sammy is nowhere to be seen. He’s probably curled up in his new favorite place to sleep—the bathroom sink. So now what? It’s too early to go to bed. Recently, I’ve been staying up later. I’ve come to realize it helps with my nerves. I do better if I wait until 11:23 p.m. to get under the covers. This prevents me from waking up at 11:22. I still get nervous, and the sixty seconds between 11:22 and 11:23 are hell, but it’s better than waking up in a fright. The result of this strategy is being extra tired but, on the plus side, I’m still alive.
My thoughts drift toward PJ, but I don’t want to think about him anymore. I’m obsessed with him, and he is clearly not interested in me. I had no idea my infatuation was so obvious until Paul opened my eyes. So, I’m making a pact with myself. Starting now, I’m moving on. No more thinking about Pajama Boy. There are plenty of other cute, blond-haired, blue-eyed boys in this world for me to give my attention to.
To pass the time and keep my mind occupied, I get prepared for school tomorrow. I pick out my clothes—clean and fresh from the closet, nothing from the floor—and pack my backpack. It looks filthy and is starting to smell like Mr. Chen’s stinky tofu. There’s time to wash it before bed and let it dry overnight in the dryer. What a thrill to have a washer and dryer in the apartment. It’s just a small stack in our kitchen closet, but I can do laundry in my boxers and bare feet. In our previous apartment, we shared a gross washer and dryer in the damp basement of the building. Mags told me once that her mom puts her backpack in a pillowcase and washes it in the washing machine. Hmm, maybe I will try that?
