It Looks Like This (15 page)

He says, Anyone.

My mouth is open and I’m not breathing, just staring up at him, and then I say,

I won’t.

Nothing happens for a second, and then he lets go and his face relaxes.

He says, Right, okay.

He looks down again and shakes his head.

He says, Jesus,

and laughs softly.

He says, Sorry. I know you won’t tell.

I relax again and smile a bit.

He looks around now, at the ocean and the shore, and shivers, and smiles, and says,

Let’s get out of this freezing water.

We watch the sunrise at Mill Point Beach.

Black at first. Quiet except the waves, sleepy and dark, moon gone.

Then:

Pink, mostly. Bursts of orange beneath. Hot red, bright yellow. Deep blues racing away, chased by morning. Ocean below, reflecting everything.

Color everywhere, coming slowly out of black, bursting, exploding, breathing, erasing darkness.

I freeze it in my mind, hold it there. So I can draw it later.

We’re so tired when we finally get up and walk back to Sean’s house.

Dad wakes me up at eleven o’clock.

He’s annoyed. Even half asleep I can tell. Dad doesn’t like it when we sleep late, and eleven is about as late as you can get.

I got home three hours ago. Dad was awake, of course. He watched me walk in without saying anything, go straight to my room. I was so tired.

I’m still so tired.

He says, How was the sleepover?

I’m barely there, still half awake, and the colors of Mill Point Beach are running through my mind. I prop myself up on my elbows.

I say, It was fun.

Dad acts like he’s been waiting for this word.

He says, Fun? Weren’t you two working on a project?

I stare at him, blinking, eyes squinting, dry and crusty. My elbows get tired and I fall back down on my bed.

I say, Yeah, we worked on the magazine a bunch. But it was a Friday; we also just chilled.

Through the slits of my eyes I can see Dad frown.

He says, You should get up.

And he walks to the door.

He pauses with his hand on the knob and turns back and says,

We’re going to church tomorrow.

Like an angry threat almost. Then he leaves.

I lie in bed for about a minute, and then I get up.

Like he said to.

Terry sits next to me in the pew, taking in the sermon, quiet like usual. Thoughtful.

Toby is on my other side again, scowling. She protested coming but Dad wasn’t having any of it. More family time, he said.

Mom just smiled her thin smile.

I don’t see Sean and I’m not really surprised ’cause he said he doesn’t go that much. But I’m still a bit disappointed.

After the sermon Dad goes off with Mom to talk to some of the church elders. Me and Toby and Terry watch them from the other side of the social room, where everyone’s gathered for refreshments. Lemonade and stale cookies mostly.

I ask, What’s that about?

Terry’s dad is one of the people in the group talking with Dad while Mom looks on.

Terry takes a bite out of his cookie, shortbread with pecans.

He says, I think your dad wants to get more involved in the church.

Toby snorts into her lemonade and Terry looks at her.

He says, What? I think it’s a pretty cool idea.

Toby looks like she wants to say something pretty bad but she sees me staring at her. I don’t really want to deal with them fighting right now and I think she can tell.

She finally rolls her eyes and says,

Whatever,

and takes her lemonade outside to wait for us.

I wait a bit and say, What kind of involvement? Like an elder?

Terry shrugs.

He says, Dad’s mentioned it, but just in passing. I don’t know if your dad is actually looking to become an elder, but I tend to think he wouldn’t turn down an invitation.

I nod slowly. Dad as an elder. I think about this for a minute, wondering how I feel. The idea doesn’t upset me exactly, but it makes me a bit uneasy and I can’t figure out why.

We stand there quiet for a few moments eating cookies and drinking lemonade and watching the adults talk to one another.

Then I say, Do you know Sean Rossini?

Terry nods.

He says, Yeah, I see him here sometimes. His parents are friends with mine. They’re right over there.

I raise my eyebrows.

I say, What?

Terry points to the group talking to Dad and, sure enough, Mr. Rossini is among the men. I hadn’t seen him before. His wife is nearby, watching the group quietly, but intently. Her brows are bunched a little and her chin is raised just a bit and her mouth is set. I watch her deep brown eyes flick back and forth between the men as they speak in turn.

Terry says, I think they come every week, but Sean only joins them every once in a while. Like you.

I let that go.

I say, Are you friends?

He says, Not really. I don’t know him that well. Why?

I can feel myself blushing and hope it doesn’t show.

I say, Oh, he’s in my French class. We’re working on a project together.

Terry nods but I can tell he’s still not sure why I brought this up.

Dad and Mom come over before I have a chance to say anything else, though. The Rossinis and Terry’s parents walk up with them. Dad looks pleased with himself.

He glances at Terry and then at me and says,

Look who we’ve just met, Mike.

I nod and hold my hand out to Sean’s dad.

I say, Hi, Mr. Rossini.

He shakes my hand and says, Sean tells me you actually got some work done Friday. Impressive.

He’s looking at me with that same unblinking stare that doesn’t really match his polite smile.

I say, Yessir. We should be done with the magazine soon.

He says, Well, I hope so, it’s almost the end of term.

He says it in a joking way but his voice is too loud.

I shake Mrs. Rossini’s hand. All she does is nod.

The Rossinis say good-bye and head toward the big double doors. Dad watches them go for a second, then turns to Toby and me.

He says, Terry’s father has invited us all to Sunday dinner at their house. Isn’t that nice?

Terry smiles, and then so do I.

I say, Cool,

and then remembering my manners before Dad can correct me I say,

Thanks, Mr. Reese.

Terry’s dad, already smiling, just nods.

Toby is seething in the car ride over to Terry’s house, but she knows better than to say anything.

Sunday dinner after church.

Mom and Dad, me and Terry, Mr. and Mrs. Reese.

And Toby.

I look back and forth between Toby and Mom, between Toby and Mrs. Reese. I think about how different she is, about how much Dad has tried to make her the same.

I think about how much Dad and Mr. Reese are the same. I think about how Terry is like them too. About how I’m supposed to be, and usually I can pass, but sometimes not.

I think about Ronald’s mom and what it would be like for her to be here. Almost divorced, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, bags under her eyes but easy to smile. She swears sometimes and drinks a bit of wine and has a hard, deep laugh.

She’d be so out of place at this dinner. Like Toby.

The thought makes me smile.

Mr. Reese says, Something funny, Mike?

He’s smiling as he says it.

I come to and shake my head slightly.

I say, Oh, no, sir, I was just thinking about something.

He nods and then says, How are you doing over at Somerdale High? Keeping up?

I say, Yessir, I’m doing okay, I guess. High school’s not as hard as they made it sound in eighth grade.

He laughs at this, a soft chuckle that comes out evenly.

He says, Yeah, they gotta talk it up so that some of the slackers will take it seriously. But I’m not surprised it’s easy for you — you’re a bright kid.

I nod. Mr. Reese is a nice man, but talking to him still makes me nervous and I never get why. But part of it is how careful and polite everything sounds. He talks like someone in a movie from the forties.

Toby groans. It’s a low and quiet groan. No one but me hears it. She hates this dinner.

But I don’t mind it. I dunno. Maybe I’m not just passing. Maybe I really am enjoying myself.

After dinner Mom helps Mrs. Reese with the dishes, and Dad and Mr. Reese go off to the living room to talk. Terry and I go up to his room. He just got a new Xbox and wants to show me.

He offers to show Toby too, but she asks Mom if she can go for a walk instead. Mom gives her an anxious look. Dad is too far away to ask and Mrs. Reese is watching.

Mom twists her wedding ring around and around and says, All right, Toby, just don’t be out too long.

She watches as Toby slips out the kitchen door.

Terry’s room is big and really, really clean. He walks over to the TV on the far wall and turns it on, then fiddles with the Xbox. There are a couple soft
bloop
s, and the logo comes onscreen.

He shows me how he can move without controls, and the Xbox will mirror it. He flicks his hand from right to left, and the screen slides with it, like he’s flipping a page.

Terry lets me try and I mimic his actions. I get the hang of it pretty quickly, but it still takes a while for it to look natural.

Terry gets bored after a few minutes and then says,

Hey, you know how we talked about that thing last time?

I stare at him. I don’t remember.

He says, About porn.

I nod. I remember now.

He smiles a bit, looking at the ground. Then he looks up.

He says, Can I show you something?

I nod again.

Terry walks over to the door, peers out into the hallway, then closes it quietly. He tiptoes over to a trunk he keeps at the foot of his bed and opens it. It’s filled with old winter clothes. Heavy coats, scarves, hats, lots of hand-knit mittens.

He digs around for a bit and then pulls a wrinkled magazine from the bottom. The cover shows the face of a naked blond woman. A man is right behind her. You can’t see his face but he’s grabbing her hair and having sex with her.

My stomach drops a bit. I both like and don’t like the feeling.

Terry says, Mom and Dad have a parental control program on my computer, so this was all I could get.

He opens the magazine to a page and shows me the picture. It’s the same woman, only now she’s lying on her back, while a different man has sex with her. Her mouth is open and her eyes are closed. The man’s muscles are tense and bulging, powerful-looking. His teeth are gritted but his eyes are wide and blazing.

I stare at the picture for a long time, taking in every line, every bit of skin.

I say, Wow.

Terry nods, slowly, wide-eyed.

He whispers, She’s so hot, right?

My stomach drops again and this time it’s only unpleasant.

I don’t answer and after a minute Terry suddenly closes the magazine and shoves it deep into his trunk, snaps the lid shut, and sits on it. He looks miserably at the floor.

Neither of us says anything for a while. Now that the excitement has gone, it feels weird to be here looking at porn with Terry.

Finally he says, It’s wrong. I just can’t help it.

I don’t know how to respond so I don’t.

He looks up.

He says, Don’t you think?

After a minute I just shrug.

Then I blurt out,

Maybe it’s not that big a deal. It’s just naked people. People have sex all the time and that’s not going to change. Maybe not everything the Bible says is really that important, you know? Maybe it’s wrong about some things.

The words surprise even me, like I don’t know what I’m going to say until it comes out.

Terry stares at me, and then his eyebrows scrunch together.

He says, Let’s go downstairs and see if there’s any dessert or something.

The car ride home is filled with Toby’s sulking and Dad’s happy chatter. Mr. Reese offered to recommend him as an elder.

Mom exclaims at the good news. It’s wonderful, she says. I tell him congratulations and that it sounds really cool because that’s what he wants to hear.

Toby stays silent but her bad mood can’t affect Dad now.

After a while I let Dad and Mom have the conversation to themselves. I think about the awkward encounter with Terry and my stomach drops again.

So I think of other things.

The day after that I’m in Art and we are supposed to draw an animal. Any kind of animal is what Mr. Kilgore says. We’re learning about drawing living things.

I draw the sunrise at Mill Point Beach.

Mr. Kilgore says, What’s that?

I say, It’s the sunrise at Mill Point Beach.

He says, You’re supposed to be drawing an animal, Mikey.

I say, There’s a seagull in it.

He leans in to get a closer look.

He says, Where?

I point to the seagull. It’s under the puffy orange clouds. There’s even another one nearby.

He says, You’ve gotta be kidding me.

Like that.

I can hear Victor and Tristan and Fuller snickering now. My ears get hot.

I don’t say anything.

Mr. Kilgore says, This seagull is tiny. It’s barely even part of the picture. You were supposed to draw an animal, Mikey.