And she said I didn’t know crap about these things.
Dad and Marcos were talking in the living room, and I could hear them laughing. I wondered what it would be like to love someone like my dad loved Marcos. Not that he talked about it. But I could see it. And, really, I was a little jealous. I was. I mean, Marcos gave Dad something that I couldn’t give him. And Dad was spending more time with him, and I missed having him all to myself, and I knew that it was really frickin’ selfish, and the other thing was that I didn’t really know Marcos all that well, and even though we got along, I wasn’t making any moves toward getting real close to him. I was a little jealous and I was a little suspicious. And I generally wasn’t a suspicious kind of guy. I wasn’t making progress when it came to Marcos. Nope. Stasis.
Sam texted me: Wftd = love.
She was sitting across from me at the kitchen table. I gave her a sarcastic look.
I didn’t know a damn thing about love. I think all I’d ever had were crushes. Not that crushes didn’t have their own emotional thing going on. I really liked the kissing thing. I sometimes daydreamed that I had a girlfriend. And I pictured her looking at me. I wondered what it would be like to feel a girl’s hands on my body. I wondered what it would be like to run my fingers over a girl’s lips.
I kept chomping on my pumpkin pie, and Sam asked what I was thinking.
“Nothing important,” I said.
“I finished my essay. College apps all done! Yay, Sam! And you should be thinking about your essay.”
“What if I told you I’d finished it?”
“You finished it? And you didn’t let me look at it?”
“I’ll let you see it.”
“When?”
“When I’m ready.”
“Oh, just like when you’re ready to read your mom’s letter.”
“Don’t go there.”
“Sally.”
“Sammy.” I grinned at her. “So I guess we’re off to college.”
“Let’s not get all enthusiastic about it.”
“Ambivalent,” I said.
She smiled. Sometimes it was as if she could read minds. “Don’t worry. When you get to college, you’ll have girls all over you.”
“Sure.”
“And you won’t have me around to get in the way.”
“You’re not in the way.”
“Maybe a little. You’re way too loyal. None of the girls you’ve ever gone out with—?not that they number in the hundreds—”
I shot her the snarkiest smile I could come up with.
“None of them liked me.”
“Girls are weird that way,” I said. “They’re all like—?I’m the only person in the universe. I don’t like that.”
“That’s because, unlike most boys, you’re actually kind of mature. But only in that way. In other ways, well, you’re a work in progress.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“You bet your ass, white boy.”
“Nice girl. See how you are? You give me a compliment. And then you take it away in one fell swoop.”
“Yup. No need to give you a big head.” Then she turned toward the living room and gave me the eye. “What do you think?”
I shrugged. “Marcos—?he’s nice, huh?”
“Yeah, he kinda is. He’s quiet, but not too shy. And he’s actually a good listener. I heard him talking to Fito, who was saying something about school, and it came out like the usual Fito. You know that negative self-talk he’s addicted to. And Marcos listened and then said, ‘You know, maybe it’s not you. Maybe it’s that teacher. There are a lot of great teachers out there. But there are also a lot of not-so-great teachers. It’s just something you should think about.’”
I looked at Sam. “So are you gonna stop giving him a hard time?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What?”
“We have this thing. I give him attitude, and he gives me a smile. It’s how we get along.”
“I get you, and I don’t get you.”
“Nah. You get me. You totally get me.” Then she got real serious. I knew that look. “You see me, Sally. I. Mean. You. See. Me. My mom, well, you know, she loved me. I know that. But she didn’t always see me. That’s sad. That’s really sad. She didn’t see me because she didn’t see herself. But you? You see me. I remember when we were about six. Maybe seven. I fell on the pavement, and you picked me up. And we walked here, to the house that has become my house. You washed my bleeding knee, which to me was totally traumatic.” We both laughed. “You washed it with a warm washcloth and put a Band-Aid on it, and then you kissed it. Do you remember that?”
“No. I don’t remember that.”
“You were so serious. I’ll always remember that look on your face. You saw me. You’ve always seen me. And I think that’s all that anyone wants. That’s why Fito loves coming over here. He’s been invisible all his life. And all of a sudden he’s visible. Seeing someone. Really seeing someone. That’s love.”
“You know what else love is?” I said. “A friend who slaps you when you need to be slapped.”
She smiled at me and I smiled at her. “You want to know a secret?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m a little jealous of Marcos.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Yeah.”
“And I’m a little suspicious of him.”
God, she smiled. “Good to know not all my lessons have been lost on you.”
Me. Dreams.
IN MY DREAM I am surrounded by a bunch of guys. And I say, “One at a time. I’ll take you on one at a time.” So one at a time, I take them all down. I beat the holy crap out of the first guy. He’s bleeding, and I watch him lying on the ground. And I just say, “Next.” So one by one, I beat the holy crap out of all of them. And they’re all lying there on the ground, and I just stand there and stare at them.
And then a man shows up. I look like him, and I know he’s my father. And we go for it. I throw the first punch, but it doesn’t faze him. And then he starts punching me. He punches me and punches me until I’m on the ground. Then he starts kicking me and kicking me. But I don’t feel a thing.
And then I wake.
If I was a bad boy in my dreams, what did that mean? And what did it mean when a father I didn’t know showed up in my dream and beat the crap out of me? I’m not going to tell Sam about this dream, because she’ll start analyzing me. I don’t feel like being analyzed.
I tried to think of something beautiful so I could fall asleep again.
I thought about the day when it was raining yellow leaves. Of course I did.
And then I went back to sleep.
Sam. Dad. Me. Dad!
SAM AND I had just come in from our morning run. Dad was reading the paper. Sam and I had been discussing our plan. I decided to get some input from Dad. Why not? “Dad,” I said, “Fito’s birthday is Friday. He turns the big eighteen.”
“I’m listening.”
“So what are you doing on Friday?”
“Well, Marcos and I were thinking about going to a movie.”
I almost wanted to ask why they didn’t think of inviting Sam and me to go along—?but I knew the answer to that one.
“Well,” I heard Sam say, “we were thinking of having something for Fito. You know, like cake and tacos.”
“Sounds like a winning combination. We can do that.”
“I’ll even bake the cake,” I said.