Perfectly Good White Boy (26 page)

Uncomfortable dinners in our family were rare. When we all lived together, my dad worked late. Or my mom had school. Or Brad and I had sports. So we didn't do a lot of circling around the table pretending to love each other a lot. Which was good, because when my dad was home, that was when he liked to get shit-faced. He wasn't a bar-goer, really, and he traveled around for work selling farm equipment, and so he had to be sober on the road. He was pretty strict about that. So the second he hit the front door, he was done with being sober.

Sitting at the table, eating hamburgers and fried potatoes—my mom didn't consider potato chips food, even though this was basic picnic shit we were having—my mother and Krista and Brad and Grandpa Chuck and everyone was all clueless and acting like they'd been born for nothing else but to sit here and pass the ketchup bottle and pour each other lemonade and talk about the groom's dinner, which was going to be at this restaurant that one of Krista's friends managed, and there was going to be a big chocolate cake, Brad's favorite, and wasn't that so fucking awesome?

“Sean, can you pass the potatoes?” my mother said.

And I looked up, looked right at Grandpa Chuck and Brad and Krista and my mom and said, “I am going to boot camp. I joined the Marines. I leave the day after Krista and Brad get married. June seventeenth. I just talked to the recruiter.” Then I passed my mom the potatoes.

No one said anything. No one moved. Except for Brad. He kept eating. Shaking his head, smiling.

Still no one said anything.

So I kept talking. “He called just now. I did my MEPS appointment a few weeks ago. That's kind of like an intake thing. So I'm all set up and everything. But, it's lucky. Sergeant Kendall didn't think I'd get in with a class until next November. But anyway, it's a sure bet I'll get in with that class. It's in San Diego.”

No one said anything.

I am leaving and never coming back. And no one says anything.

“Shouldn't it be Parris Island?” Grandpa Chuck asked, finally. “Because you're east of the Mississippi?”

“Sergeant Kendall said it was San Diego.”

“Is that Camp Pendleton?”

“What does that
matter
?” my mother shrieked.

“Just commenting,” Grandpa Chuck said. He sounded a little miffed. At me or my mom, I couldn't tell.

My mom looked at me, tipping her head to the side. Laying down her fork very specifically and slowly. “Well,” she said. “I guess I just don't know what to say. Mostly I'm surprised.”

“Me too,” Brad added, shoveling potatoes into his mouth.

“Sean, I just can't . . . I'm so sad you're leaving the day after!” Krista squeaked.

“Well, aren't you going on your honeymoon, anyway?”

“Not for two weeks,” Krista said. “I couldn't get the time off.”

“Oh,” I said.

My mom pushed back in her chair, ran her hands through her hair so that the top part stuck up weird and you could see all these little greyish/white hairs sticking up on top, like little wires or bolts of lightning.

“San Diego's a better place. Weather's hotter than sin at Parris Island,” Grandpa Chuck said. “Humid. Sticky. Southern weather. And the bugs are supposedly fierce.”

“They've got bugs in San Diego, too, I bet,” I said.

He nodded, pushed back from the table, rested his hands around his plate a little, his hands big and wrinkly. He still wore his wedding ring, though my grandma'd been dead for years.

I stared at his wedding ring hand. I didn't want to eat anymore. My mom looked like someone had told her somebody had died. I knew she was going to cry next. I could feel it. I couldn't be with these people. But I couldn't be alone. So I stood up and headed out to my car. Not in a huff or anything, no door slamming. Just, like, escaping, slowly, like a slow leak from a tire.

I dialed Neecie. When she didn't pick up, I texted that I was coming over.

Then Grandpa Chuck, in the driveway, calling for me.

“Sean? Sean! Where you headed?”

“Nowhere,” I said. Then I thought I'd joke. “Or San Diego.”

He didn't laugh, of course.

“You know you launched quite a bomb there, son.”

“I know.”

“Just so you realize, we're not upset or anything. We're just surprised.”

“You speaking for everyone, Grandpa?”

He stepped back. I was never rude to my grandpa like that. Because he was old. And also nice. I never wanted to be a dick to him.

“No. No, I'm not. I shouldn't be.”

“What's the big deal? I'm eighteen,” I said. “I don't need anyone's permission. Or approval.”

“I understand that, Seany,” he said.

“I gotta go,” I said.

“That's probably a good idea. Give your mom some time to absorb this.”

“Right.”

“Remember when Brad wanted to join the Army?” He scratched a hand over his bald head; it wasn't quite warm out yet. The breeze picked up across the highway, and we watched a plastic cup fly into the chainlink fence.

“Yeah.”

“Keep that in mind, then. You've got some explaining to do, Sean. This isn't the easy way out.”

I nodded. But I didn't agree with him and it bugged me, him saying that. He had no idea how hard it'd been, the whole thing. Easy was the last thing I'd call it. But I didn't want to get mad at him. He looked sad and old, and I loved him, my grandpa. I didn't want to fight with him.

Before he was even back in the house, I was speeding down the highway. Straight to Neecie's house, no detours or stops or regrets. No delays. And she was standing on her stoop, wrapping her hoodie around her in the cold when I pulled up. Waiting for me. Which I had known she would be.

Chapter Sixteen

I've never really liked being alone.

I mean, I can
be
alone. I'm not incapable of it. But it's harder. There's just too much going on in my head when I'm alone; being around other people sort of quiets down all the noise. I wouldn't be alone in the Marines, either. Especially boot camp. It was something I didn't mind about it, when I thought about it. So making myself run down the frontage road, in the not-quite-warm spring air, seemed temporary. Something I'd get through. Outlast.

One night, though, it was the end of April and the world was getting warmer and greener, I kind of felt it. Felt the point of running. Why people like Eddie's dad did marathons and trained by themselves all the time. Because I was running down the frontage road, two miles from home, and the moon was out and it was cold, but there was something so good about it too. Like, I was a man and no one told me to go running, but I had, anyway, all on my own, and it was like the Marines secret had been. All mine, and fuck you for thinking you know me.

Fuck you, Hallie and Brad.

Fuck you, Grandpa Chuck for saying it was the easy way out.

Fuck you, Mom. Well, not her, directly. Just her
I accept your decision. I am proud of you
robot voice, with her eyes looking like I killed something already.

Fuck you, to everyone, in general, really.

Well, not Krista. And not Otis. And certainly not Neecie.

Who was sitting in her Blazer in the gravel drive when I came up, sweating and panting.

“What are you doing here?” I said when she jumped down from the Blazer.

“Waiting for you,” she said. “Go take a shower. Let's go do something.”

“Okay,” I said. She followed me in and told me to hurry and so I went into my room and stripped down but it was weird, because she was there, and I was naked and she was upstairs somewhere, and that normally never happened, and then I was in the shower, with The Horn, and thinking I was pretty fucking great, for no good reason, except for the running under the full moon thing.

When I came upstairs, I grabbed a bagel and some juice, but she was gone. In the driveway, she had already started the Blazer. Hair dripping, I got into the car, turned on the heat so my hair wouldn't freeze into gel-icicles.

“There's a party at the river trestle,” she said, pulling out of the driveway.

I couldn't say anything, either, because her car was so damn noisy, even with the radio off. I had no interest in going to the river trestle. The last time I'd been there was the weird breakup with Hallie.

But I didn't want to bring that up. Not because she would mind; I just didn't want to think about it, really. But Neecie didn't mind if I was silent, especially in the car when she had music on. And I was just glad we were friends again. It sort of killed me, when I thought how long we'd gone not talking. How dumb that was. How I could have fixed it with just one text, too.

Once we got there, it didn't seem like much of a party. There were a few cars down there, but the people were all seniors from St. Albans, no one I knew or gave a shit about.

“I thought Ivy'd be here by now,” she said.

I shrugged.

“Let's get cups,” she said.

“I don't have any cash.”

“I'll get you one,” she said. Jesus. She really must have wanted to get wasted. So we got out and got cups. But it was weird. We stood by each other and looked around. It was muddy but a little too cold for a party outside. I felt like a baby for being cold.

“See that guy, there? The one with the green jacket?”

“Yeah.”

“I made out with him once. At a party.”

I stared at the guy. He was drinking something from a water bottle. He looked completely forgettable. A regular guy. Just sitting there, not talking.

“What was his name?”

“Aidan. I can't remember his last name. It was a boring last name. Something like Smith or Anderson? He was cousins with the kid whose house the party was at. Ivy and I went with some people she knew from St. Albans. I wonder what he's doing back here. I thought he lived somewhere else, I guess. I never thought I'd see him again.”

“Oh.”

“He was the first penis I ever touched.”

“Jesus, Neecie!”

“What,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and shivering. “It was.”

“But . . . why? Why are you telling me this?”

“No reason,” she said. “It's not like I expected him to be here. I'm just noting it. It's a strange coincidence. Strange coincidences get talked about, Sean. Like your mother's sudden happiness with you and the Marines.”

“I wouldn't call it happiness.”

“Acceptance, then.”

“Whatever.”

We didn't talk. I tried not to look at that guy whose dick she'd touched. Failed.

“Was it big? That dude's wang?” Blurting.

“How should I know? They all seem about the same size to me, really.”

Jesus. How many had she touched?

“How many have you touched?”

She laughed. “You think I keep track?”

“I know you do. A guy would.”

“I'm not a guy.”

“Still.”

“Six.”

“Wow.”

“You think that's a lot. But really, you should probably touch the dicks that go inside you first, don't you think?”

“You've fucked six different guys?”

“I didn't say that.”

“You're annoying the shit out of me, you know that?”

“No, you're just in a pissy mood. You want another beer?”

We refilled a couple more times, and though she seemed buzzed, seemed up for some kind of adventure, I just felt bored. Which quickly turned into feeling annoyed. Especially because I couldn't stop searching out that Aidan kid she'd pointed out.

Then, when she checked her phone to call Ivy, I looked at mine; Eddie'd sent a text of two people in clown masks fucking.

“God,” I said.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“Ivy's still at home,” she said. “She just got out of the shower.”

“So . . .?”

“So I'm supposed to be staying at her house tonight.”

“Oh.”

“So we could stay out all night.”

“Oh.”

“But this is boring.”

“Yeah.”

“You're kind of boring, too, Sean.”

“Sorry.”

“Let's go back to the car. I'm freezing.”

“Okay.”

Once in the Blazer, Neecie pulled a stadium blanket from the backseat. White with yellow squiggles. She offered me some of the blanket, and though I wanted to take it—I was still cold and my hair was feeling icy—I shook my head. Finished my beer, set it in the cup holder. Neecie turned on the car so we'd have some heat, and I leaned back and stared at the cracked vinyl ceiling.

I hated that we were here, with all these people we didn't know. That I didn't want to know, either—even though all of them seemed hell-bent on knowing each other. It seemed like all these St. Albans seniors were tripping over themselves to party one last time “while we're still all together”—that kind of thing was pretty common lately. Reminded me of all the parties with Hallie and her friends. It was a waste, though, that Neecie could stay out all night and there was nothing worth doing. I didn't want any more beer. And I couldn't think of anything to say. Anything I really wanted to bring up, that is. I didn't want to hear about the cocks Neecie had touched and now fondly remembered like some a third-grade spelling bee ribbon. All of these people I just wanted to fast-forward through. Though not Neecie. I didn't mind being with her. Around her.

“Will you ever tell me your real name?” I asked.

“No.”

“Melanie and Jessamyn won't tell me, either.”

“I've trained them well. Put fear in their hearts.”

“I could ask your mom.”

“She respects my wishes as well.”

“Gary?”

“Gary is clueless.”

“Why won't you tell me? Why do I get dick stories? The name thing; that's something I've always wondered.”