Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda

“You got it.” She opens her eyes, and I see her lips moving silently. Coach. Coach. Coach.

Martin stares into space, grinding his knuckle into his cheek. He has extremely prominent knuckles. Martin has prominent everything: huge eyes, long nose, full lips. Looking at him is exhausting.

“Martin.”

“Sorry. My line?”

“Dodger just said he got took away in a coach.”

“A coach? What coach? Where coach?”

Almost. Never perfect. Always almost. We start the scene over again. And I think: it’s Friday night. In theory, I could be out getting drunk. I could be at a concert.

I could be at a concert with Blue.

But instead, it’s Oliver getting taken away in a coach. Again and again and again.

“I’m never going to learn this,” Abby says.

“Don’t we have until the end of Christmas break?” Martin asks.

“Yeah, well. Taylor has everything memorized already.”

Abby and Martin both have huge parts in the play, but Taylor is the lead. As in, the play is Oliver! and Taylor plays Oliver.

“But Taylor has a photographic memory,” Martin says, “allegedly.”

Abby smiles a little bit.

“And a very fast metabolism,” I add.

“And a natural tan,” says Martin. “She never goes out in the sun. She was just born tan.”

“Yeah, Taylor and her tan,” says Abby. “I’m so jealous.” Martin and I both burst out laughing, because Abby definitely wins for melanin.

“So would it be weird if I ordered another waffle?” asks Martin.

“It would be weird if you didn’t,” I say.

I don’t really understand it. I almost think he’s growing on me.



14

FROM: [email protected] TO: [email protected] DATE: Dec 6 at 6:19 PM

SUBJECT: Coming Out Thing Did you do it, did you do it, did you do it?

—Jacques

FROM: [email protected] TO: [email protected] DATE: Dec 6 at 10:21 PM

SUBJECT: Re: Coming Out Thing Okay. I didn’t exactly do it.

I got there, and my dad had everything set up for Hotel Hanukkah: the menorah, presents wrapped and lined up on the nightstand, and a plate of latkes and two glasses of chocolate milk (my dad has to have chocolate milk with all fried stuff). Anyway, it looked like he put a lot of effort into it, so that was kind of nice. My stomach was churning, because I was really planning on telling him. But I didn’t want to do it straight out of the gate, so I figured I’d wait until we finished opening presents.

So, you know how you hear stories about people coming out to their parents, and the parents say they already knew somehow? Yeah, my dad isn’t going to say that. I’m officially certain that he has no idea I’m gay, because you will not believe what book he picked out to give me. History of My Life by Casanova (or, as you would say, by “freaking” Casanova).

Looking back, there was probably a perfect opportunity hiding in there somewhere. Maybe I should have asked him to exchange it for Oscar Wilde. I don’t know, Jacques. I guess it kind of stopped me in my tracks. But now I’m thinking it might be a blessing in disguise, because in a weird way, I think it would have hurt my mom’s feelings if I told my dad first. It can be a little complicated with divorced parents. This whole thing is really overwhelming.

Anyway, my new plan is I’m going to tell my mom first. Not tomorrow, because tomorrow is Sunday, and I just think it would be better if I don’t do it right after church.

Why is it so much easier talking about this stuff with you?

—Blue

FROM: [email protected] TO: [email protected] DATE: Dec 7 at 4:46 PM

SUBJECT: Re: Coming Out Thing Blue,

I can’t believe your dad got you a book by freaking Casanova. Just when you think your parents couldn’t be more clueless, right? No wonder you couldn’t tell him then. I’m sorry, Blue. I know you were kind of excited to do it. Or maybe you were just nauseated, in which case I’m sorry you got nauseated over nothing. I can’t even wrap my mind around the politics of coming out to divorced parents. I was basically planning to sit my parents down on the couch at some point and get it over with in one go. But you really can’t do that, can you? It makes my heart hurt for you, Blue. I just wish you didn’t have to deal with that extra layer of awfulness.

As for why it’s easier to talk to me about this stuff—maybe it’s because I’m so cute and grammatical? And do you really think I’m grammatical? Because Mr. Wise says I have a thing about sentence fragments.

—Jacques

FROM: [email protected] TO: [email protected] DATE: Dec 9 at 4:52 PM

SUBJECT: Re: Coming Out Thing Jacques,