“How would I know? None of you talk to me. And you keep secrets from me.”
“I’m forty-two,” Mom said. “I’m forty-two and I never thought I’d be dating again. When I married your father, I believed we’d stay together until we died.”
“Then tough it out. I know he cheated on you, but Ben Schwitzer makes you even now, right? Don’t give up.”
Mom’s anger lines receded, replaced by a weariness that made her look older than forty-two. “We’ve changed too much, Ozzie. People can begin on the same trajectory only to wind up, twenty years later, so far from one another that it’s impossible to chart a course back.” She sniffled, and I thought maybe she was crying, but it could have been allergies. “That’s just life, Ozzie. It happens. It’ll happen to you.”
I thought about Tommy, and wondered if we would have eventually grown apart. I couldn’t imagine a life where I didn’t love Thomas Ross. “Does it have to?”
“I don’t know.” Mom grabbed her water but didn’t go anywhere. “Just . . . don’t get so focused on where you’re going that you forget the people you’re traveling with. There’s no point reaching a destination if you arrive alone.”
“Okay,” I said, though it sounded inadequate.
“I’m going to the beach. Don’t mess up the house.”
“I won’t.” I wanted to hug her. Tell her I understood, even though I didn’t. If two people loved each other enough, it shouldn’t matter how far their paths had diverged. Instead, I let her walk out the door.
My appetite left with Mom, so I showered and changed and drove to Calvin’s house.
Calvin was sitting in his driveway when I arrived. He waved and popped up, and I parked beside his father’s truck.
“Hey! I wasn’t sure you’d actually come.”
I got out of the car. “Should we head inside and get started?”
Calvin kept his distance. “Actually, I thought we could go for a walk first.” He spoke so quickly his words ran together. “Dad’s off from both jobs, and he decided to work around the house, which started with light cleaning, but now he’s taking apart the garbage disposal.”
Calvin’s suggestion felt like a ploy to get me alone, but judging by his run-on sentences and manic hand gestures, we probably wouldn’t get any work done on our roller coaster until he said what he needed to say.
“Sure,” I said. “Let’s go.”
We walked to the end of his cul-de-sac and veered into the grass, which turned out to be a dog-poo minefield, until we reached a series of boardwalks and gazebos that crisscrossed a large retention pond infested with stalkery, bread-hungry ducks. It was one of those mild breezy days that convinces northerners Florida is a paradise. But no one can truly understand Florida until they’ve survived a couple of summers where the air is thick enough to drink and the heat index hovers somewhere between sweat-through-your-undershirt and even-Satan-cranked-up-his-AC hot. Where, for five months out of the year, every tropical system is a potential house-slaying hurricane. Where the roaches fly, you can only drive as fast as the ancient snowbird in front of you, and the mosquitos suck every last drop of blood from your body.
But that day it did feel like paradise, and I found myself glad Calvin had suggested we spend it outside.
Calvin stopped at a gazebo and parked his butt on a bench, looking across the pond at a fountain spraying misty water into the air.
“I had this whole speech,” Calvin said. “I’ve been reworking it in my mind since New Year’s. It’s what I was trying to tell you at your car at school, which I’m sorry about, by the way. I didn’t mean to ambush you like that. Well, I mean, I guess I did; I just expected to catch you alone.”
I climbed onto the railing and hooked my legs through the wood beams to keep from tumbling backward into the water. “We can pretend New Year’s Eve never happened, and just work on our project. We don’t have to be friends.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes,” I said. “No. I don’t know. Just say what you need to say already.”
Calvin bobbed his head. “Obviously, you can tell I’ve got some problems.”
“Don’t we all.”
“There was this guy. He really messed me up.”
“So that’s why you called me a slut?”
“Yeah,” Calvin said. “But no.” He fidgeted with the cords hanging from his hoodie’s neck. It was like he was wearing a suit of fire ants under his regular clothes and couldn’t stop squirming. “The guy . . . he was my first, and I loved him, all right? He said to me what I said to you after the first time we had sex. And the second time and the third—”
“I get it,” I said.
“It fucked with my head, and I think he did it so that I’d never feel like I was good enough for anyone else.”
Finally, I had nothing to say.
“I was serious when I told you I was joking, but I think I also kind of said it because I was scared you wouldn’t want to be with me after what we did, and it was easier to strike first.” Calvin met my eyes with his. “Does that make any sense?”
“I know it shouldn’t, but it kind of does.”
Calvin rocked on the bench, and I wanted to freeze him in place. “I think you’re awesome, Ozzie. We haven’t known each other long, so it’s not like I’m all in love with you because we got off together, but I do like you. You’re weird and funny and I know I’ve probably screwed everything up, but I hope you can forgive me for being an asshole.”
I wanted it to be as easy as believing Calvin was sincere and accepting his apology. I wanted to be like Dustin and just choose to be happy, but it felt dangerous to like Calvin the way he’d said he liked me. Dangerous for both of us. I think I’d only seen the surface of his problems, and getting involved with him could end badly for everyone involved. And I would definitely hurt him if—no, not if, when—I found Tommy.
“We can be friends,” I said after a while. Calvin’s back straightened and his shoulders lifted. He even smiled. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be anything more.”
Calvin held up his hands. “You don’t have to explain.”
“I still love Tommy,” I said. “And I’m not giving up on finding him.”
“I understand.”
I laughed. “I’m glad someone does.” I wasn’t in the mood to talk about Tommy, though, so I changed the subject. “Tell me about this guy of yours. He sounds like a dick.”
Calvin’s fragile smile faded. “You don’t know him. He’s older. A teacher.”
“You were hooking up with a teacher? Holy shit! Who?”
“It’s not important.”
I could tell Calvin didn’t want to discuss it, but he couldn’t dangle information that juicy in front of me and then withhold the details. “Does he teach at our school? Is he the reason you quit wrestling and started sleeping through all your classes?”
“Yes,” Calvin said. “And no.” He stood and walked toward me. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Yeah. Obviously. I’m sorry.” I shook my head. “It’s just . . . a teacher? That’s definitely not what I was expecting you to say.”
“Listen. You can’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t.”
“Not even Lua.”