Me Being Me Is Exactly as Insane as You Being You (30 page)

25
Letters Not Written in the Top Left Corner of the Third Envelope Darren Looks At, Which Is Addressed to Him (and Has the Words “Mailed from Belén, New Mexico” Printed over by the Stamp)

1.
 A

2.
 B

3.
 C

4.
 D

5.
 E

6.
 F

7.
 G

8.
 H

9.
 I

10.
 J

11.
 K

12.
 L

13.
 M

14.
 N

15.
 O

16.
 P

17.
 Q

18.
 R

19.
 S

20.
 T

21.
 U

22.
 V

23.
 W

24.
 X

25.
 Y

6
Sections of the “Letter” Darren Reads After Zipping His Pants Up, Washing His Hands, and Pacing Back and Forth in the Bathroom for a Full Minute

1.
 The date (September 14)

2.
 An absolutely amazing drawing of two forearms with that design on them, the hands attached to these arms holding each other, their fingers intertwined

3.
 Right below the drawing, in this cool block font,
“Having a mark means you're super special, but it kind of sucks a little too.”
And then below that:
—Darren Jacobs

4.
 The initials
ZL
in the bottom right-hand corner of the page

5.
 On the back, the sentence,
They asked us to draw a “fond memory.”

6.
 Under this sentence,
Zoey

39
Extremely Urgent Questions Darren Would Like Answered ASAFP

1.
 Seriously?

2.
 That's it?

3.
 What the hell?

4.
 What does this mean?

5.
 Who the hell is “they”?

6.
 And did her putting “fond memory” in quotes mean that she doesn't really remember it fondly?

7.
 And doesn't she remember that we didn't even hold hands then?

8.
 Or ever, actually?

9.
 Does she think we did?

10.
 Did we?

11.
 Why did seeing my name written out by her make me feel like that was the first time I'd ever seen my name in my whole life?

12.
 How in the world does this get here the day I send her my letter?

13.
 And the day Rachel is here?

14.
 Is all this some kind of sign?

15.
 And if it is, what kind of sign is it?

16.
 Why didn't she include a return address?

17.
 Why didn't she tell me anything else?

18.
 Doesn't she realize this is like a form of torture?

19.
 Is she totally insane?

20.
 Or is this proof that she wants me to wait for her until she gets back?

21.
 Because she must have thought a lot about us holding hands while she worked on this, right?

22.
 But seriously, one lousy sentence?

23.
 When is she getting back?

24.
 And should I wait until she does?

25.
 Where the hell is Belén, New Mexico?

26.
 Should I write her back, even though I just wrote her?

27.
 What's going to happen now?

28.
 Who do I tell?

29.
 Should I tell anyone?

30.
 Rachel?

31.
 What would happen if I told Rachel?

32.
 Would that be mean?

33.
 Would she still want to fool around if I did?

34.
 Would I still want to?

35.
 Do I still want to?

36.
 What am I supposed to do?

37.
 Why isn't it obvious?

38.
 Or is it?

39.
 Why is my life like this?

10
Diversions Darren Calls Upon in Order to Delay His Exit from the Bathroom

1.
 Washing his hands, again.

2.
 Brushing his teeth.

3.
 Examining this one little, not-really-a-zit-yet zit that might be coming in on his chin.

4.
 Looking again at the rest of the mail, which is all clearly junk.

5.
 Washing his face.

6.
 Examining the two types of medication his mom brought him.

7.
 Performing some simple calculations.

8.
 Opening a box.

9.
 Taking two capsules.

10.
 Peeing again.

3
Forces Darren Surrenders To

1.
 RACHEL'S AFFECTION

When Darren finally opens the door and begins walking toward the stairs, he hears her say, “Over here.” She's in his bedroom. So he turns around.

The room is dark, except for two candles. Not the Shabbat candles his mom lit before, but Shabbat candles all the same.

She grins, kind of sheepishly. “Am I like breaking a law or something? We can put them out.”

“Who gives a shit,” Darren says, unsure what, if anything, lies beyond his indifference. He's never seen his room lit only by candles. He has no idea if he likes it. He doesn't dislike it, that's for damn sure.

Rachel is by his computer. She presses a button. The song from before, the one he played for her, starts playing again. The lighting is absurdly appropriate. She comes over to him, her eyes all business. “How long until your mom comes home?”

“An hour, maybe. She'll text first.” He's holding the mail. Meaning they're not exactly alone, him and Rachel.

“You know what the first thing I liked about you was?” Rachel asks between kisses, her voice accompanied by the sophisticated sounds of the Duke Ellington Orchestra.

“Huh?”

“Your name.”

“My name stinks. It's stupid.”

“No, it's not. I liked it. I saw it on a list of the bunks. ‘
Darren Jacobs
.' It seemed like, I don't know, like a kind name. I wanted to hug your name. I swear. I liked you before I saw you, Darren. Before I knew you at all.”

She raises her mouth to his ear and whispers his name into it.

2.
 THE MEMORY OF HIS LAST DAY AT CAMP GREEN RIDGE

Darren estimates that about a third of the campers at Green Ridge cried the last day of camp, which wasn't really a day at all, but just breakfast and then getting on the buses. And though it was about a third overall, it was way more than half among the girls, definitely including Rachel. Because she might have been quiet when the whole camp was together, but this didn't mean she wouldn't cry, no siree. She was already crying the night before, when maybe only about 10 percent of campers (all girls) cried, and so she cried straight through breakfast and kept going when they all went outside where the different buses were waiting.

Darren hugged her a bunch that morning (more to comfort her than because he was all that sad to have to say good-bye to her). But after a while, around the time her face started to freak him out a little, because her eyes were puffy and her skin was red and splotchy, Darren just sort of decided that he would hug her some more but that they were kind of already broken up in his head, something he had been considering for a couple of days by that point, but that seemed sort of pointless with camp almost over.

Then there was this weird half-hour stretch during which the counselors had already told them they really had to get on the buses “now,” but before everyone was finally on them (in fact, pretty much no one except some of the youngest boys got on a bus in the first ten minutes). Meaning camp was already over, but no one seemed ready to admit it. And even though Darren had a feeling that Rachel intended to be one of the very last people to get on her bus, Darren didn't himself feel like being a part of all this much longer, because there was something creepy about looking over at his bunk and knowing it was now totally empty except for the bed frames and mattresses.

So the first moment it seemed kind of reasonable for him to get on the bus, he took her hand, hugged her once more, and said, “I think I'm going to get on now.”

She smiled this super weird smile for him, reached into her backpack, and handed him a letter in a purple envelope. “For the bus,” she said.

“Okay,” Darren said. “Thanks.” They kissed one last time (a pretty good kiss actually, like her crying had done something to make her lips softer than normal), and he got on the bus.

Darren forgot about the letter until around Madison (he'd passed out almost as soon as he sat down, since he had stayed up pretty much the entire night before). Inside was a card with a drawing of fireworks printed on it. Rachel had written,
Once upon a time there was a girl. One day the girl met a boy. The boy made the girl very, very happy. But then the girl had to say good-bye to the boy. This made her very, very sad. The girl began to cry and could not stop. She cried for days and weeks and months until the land was flooded, until the water rose all the way up to her bedroom window. The girl built a boat out of her bed and sailed away. She sailed past all the cities and all the towns and all the villages, but still, she could not stop crying. She met a kind seagull, who tried to cheer her up. But it could not, so it flew away. She met a friendly otter, who tried to make her smile. But it could not, so it swam away. She met a funny turtle, who tried to make her laugh. But it could not, so it crawled inside its shell and floated away. The girl was left alone with her tears. Until one day another boat appeared on the horizon. The girl sailed toward it. It was the boy. He stepped onto her boat and wiped the tears off her cheeks. She stopped crying. His boat drifted away. They kept on sailing together, in the slowly receding waters, past the far horizon. The End. Always, always, Rachel.

Darren, still just sort of half-awake, reread Rachel's story a few times, until he started wondering what would have happened if they were at a camp for creative writing instead of music, and if he would have come to like Rachel more instead of less if he got to see her read her stories, because her piano playing sort of bummed him out and convinced him that there wasn't really anything so special about her, but this story, even though it was pretty corny and everything, it somehow got to him anyway.

Because if he knew this about her before, who knows, maybe he would have cried when they hugged and kissed that last time, because he did almost start to feel something then but didn't feel like letting himself feel it, so instead he kind of whispered, “Okay, I should probably get on the bus. Bye.”

3.
 DOXYLAMINE SUCCINATE

Kissing is an awfully strange activity when you think about it. Like of all the things you can do with your mouth, it's weird that you can do this, too. Did someone have to invent it first? Because have you ever seen animals kiss?

It must be the lighting, or the horn section, or how he can taste Rachel's mouth more than he could before (maybe because he brushed his teeth). All he knows is that kissing her right now, not that it's bad, not at all, but if they sat here softly tugging at each other's ears, that wouldn't seem any more bizarre to him than this.

Life would be a lot easier if you liked the same person who liked you. Or at least liked the person who likes you the same amount that they like you. Assuming you're lucky enough to have someone like you in the first place. And especially if that person knows how to act with adults, and likes not just making out, but also most of the other stuff that people do with and for each other after they've been making out for a while. Because that stuff's probably pretty great when you're doing it with a person you like exactly as much as they like you.

His mom said he should only take the green capsules right before he goes to bed, since they're for nighttime. Plus it had only been about two hours since he took the other ones. But sometimes being awake is an enormous inconvenience. Like when girls keep giving you letters that won't leave you alone.

It's probably not fair to Rachel to concentrate on her hair, or find ways of encouraging her to stick to his ear. She deserves better. Though the weird thing is she's definitely really happy right now. Or pleased. But then later on, at some point, he's not going to be able to keep this up forever, whatever it is he's keeping up right now.

The truth is, it feels quite nice to have her pressed against him like she is. She's so warm. But not too warm. Not hot. If there was some way to convince her to fall asleep on top of him, the way he's going to fall asleep below her, it would be sort of perfect, at least in the short term.

Is she the nicest person ever? And if so, how can that possibly be not enough?

When he finally passes out in a moment or two, there will remain the question of where she will sleep. Definitely not in Nate's room. Because who knows. His mom might put her down on the couch, or even give her the office. It is Shabbat, after all. So maybe it's okay, then. Just letting himself say good night to her and this Friday already without actually saying it out loud.

Good night.