Pretend You Love Me (24 page)

“In the morning?” We wouldn’t get back to Coalton until dawn.

“Um, no.” He eyed Jamie.

Jamie said real fast, “Onethirtytomorrowafternoon.”

I stopped dead in the doorway. “Jamie!”

He scurried ahead of me and snagged a shopping cart. Over his shoulder, he shot me a grin.

Damn him. He might’ve mentioned we were staying overnight.

I heard him say to Shane, “What shall we get? A jug of wine? A loaf of bread?” They ended in unison, “Thou?” And giggled.

Couple of girls.

I sidled up beside them at the cheese case. “You owe me,” I seethed at Jamie. “You’re going to pay.”

“Put it on my tab.” He opened the glass door and selected a round of cheese. Shane must’ve felt my fire. “Um, I’ll go pick
out the bread,” he said, scuttling off toward the bakery.

“Who’s paying for the motel?” I asked Jamie.

“Don’t worry about it,” he sniped.

He sounded annoyed with me.
He
was annoyed?

“Have you ever had Camembert? Is it stinky?” He sniffed the cheese. “Look who I’m asking.” He dropped the round into the basket.

“You’re dead. You know that.”

He turned to meet my eyes. “No, Mike. I’m alive. For the first time in my life, I am truly and fully alive.” He strutted off,
leaving me standing there alone. A guy in a ponytail, who’d obviously overhead, grinned like a serial killer.

I hustled after Jamie and Shane. They bought bread and cheese and deli meat and strawberries and chocolate dip and fake champagne
and I don’t know what all. I tossed in a bran muffin and a bottle of this weird ginseng tea. Shane paid for everything.

We found Cheesman Park not too far from the grocery. There were clots of people sitting under trees or playing Frisbee or
walking their dogs. A couple of women strolled by with a baby buggy. Were they gay? I watched them continue down the sidewalk,
talking and laughing together. I couldn’t take my eyes off them.

Shane paused under a huge silver maple and said, “How’s this?” The grass was still moist from the rain. Not too soggy.

“Perfect,” Jamie said. “Don’t you have a tarp in the truck?”

“Huh?”

Jamie repeated, “Isn’t there a tarp in your truck?”

“Yeah.”

We stared at each other.

“Well?” he said.

“Well, what?”

He let out an irritated breath. “Do you mind?”

What was I now, his service dog? I huffed and stomped back to retrieve the tarp.

We spread our picnic out under the tree. Jamie made a big production of opening all the cheese packages and breaking the bread
and uncorking the champagne. He squealed when it bubbled. Shane recorded the event live for CNN. As Jamie linked his arm in
Shane’s to drink a toast, Shane shook his head and said, “You are so gay.”

Jamie grinned. “I know. Ain’t it grand?”

Shane blinked over to me, actually noticing I was there, and said, “So, Mike. Do you have a girlfriend?”

Jamie choked on champagne. Flapping a hand over his mouth as he swallowed, he answered for me, “Mike has an imaginary girlfriend.”

Shane looked interested, or confused.

Jamie explained, “She’s straight.”

I pushed to my feet. Grabbing my tea bottle, I started away. Jamie called at my back, “Mike’s holding out for a miracle.”

No, I wasn’t. Miracles don’t happen. Like birthday wishes, they never come true. I wandered over to a group of girls—women—who
were stretching a volleyball net between two poles. I leaned against a tree trunk, drinking my tea.

They split into teams. Ten, eleven of them, I counted. Were they all gay? There were more gay women here than I knew existed
in the world. The ball came flying at me and I shagged it with one arm.

“Nice save.” One of the girls jogged over. I handed her the ball. She said, “You want to play?”

“Sure.” I set my tea on the ground.

“Oh look,” someone called. “Marty found herself a baby dyke.”

Marty answered, “I’m a chicklet magnet. What can I say?” She handed me the ball. “Your serve.”

I stepped behind the imaginary line and gave the ball a fister. It streaked over the net. Two players dove for it and missed.
The taller one said, “Could I have her, Marty? You promised to share.” They all laughed.

I didn’t feel offended or anything. More like proud of my skills.

Our team won the first game fifteen to six, then we mixed up players. They were fun, these girls. Women. A blast. Even though
I was probably the shortest one, I had enough spring in my legs to spike the net. I was low to the ground so I could scoop
serves. I think I earned their respect. I hoped so.

Marty said, “Okay, whoever wins the next game gets the baby dyke as a trophy.”

They laughed. So did I. I wouldn’t mind being their trophy.

“Mike, come on. We’re leaving.”

I glanced over my shoulder. Jamie and Shane stood by the tree, Jamie holding my tea and the tarp, Shane the leftover food.
“What if
I’m not ready to go?” I wanted to say. But I didn’t. This was Jamie’s day. I’d have mine.

“Thanks, guys,” I told everyone, tossing the ball to Marty.

“We play most Saturdays if the weather’s decent,” she said. “You’re welcome to join us.”

I wanted to. I wanted to stay forever and play with these girls.

Jamie and Shane decided they
had
to see this movie, a French flick with subtitles, so we drove around wasting gas until we found the theater. I think they
expected me to wait for them in the parking lot. Get real. I made Jamie pay for my ticket. I made him buy me popcorn.

About five minutes into the film, I wished I’d stayed in the truck. Jamie and Shane began making out. Not subtle either. They
were really into it. I moved to a seat up front by myself. Imaginary girlfriend. Right. She was real, Jamie. Warm and alive.
Imagine her here with me now, kissing me. It wouldn’t take a miracle. She needed a break from Bailey. She said so. Here I
was, whenever she was ready.

How about when
I
was ready? I was ready now.

After the movie we drove around until we found a motel. Not a Motel 6, but close. The Swiss Chalet. Cheap, but quaint. Shane
said, “I’ll get us a room.”

I reached across Jamie to catch Shane’s sleeve. “Two rooms. I’m not going to spend the night with you guys.”

They looked at me like, That wasn’t exactly in our plan either. Did they expect me to sleep in the truck? Apparently. “Two
rooms,” I repeated.

Shane nodded. He, at least, had a credit card.

I’d never spent the night in a motel room. It was weird knowing that a stranger had slept in my bed. More than one stranger,
probably. The sink dripped. I couldn’t stand listening to that all night. I retrieved Dad’s toolbox from the truck and got
busy. The faucets were washerless, so I dug out Dad’s groove-joint pliers and replaced the cartridges.

There wasn’t much to do. What do you do in a motel room, alone?
Watch TV? There was cable, and pay-per-view porn, mostly, which Jamie and Shane were no doubt taking advantage of. I couldn’t
hear anything through the wall. I should call home, I thought. Darryl might be worried.

Yeah, right. He’d be worried about the truck. I picked up the phone and got a dial tone. Then realized it was long-distance
and plunked it back in the receiver.

Forget it, I decided. If Darryl or Ma even noticed I was gone, they could send Reese out looking for me. Give the law enforcement
something to do besides harass the local youth.

I stripped and took a shower. Weird shower head. No water pressure. I hadn’t even brought a toothbrush.

As I lay in bed, staring at the flocked wallpaper, I wondered what Jamie and Shane were doing. Were they kissing? Undressing
each other? Were they lying together naked in bed? Doing it? I closed my eyes and thought about her. Xanadu. Doing it. With
me. Us. Together.

The world floated away and I drifted.

They had a teary farewell. Shane asked me to capture it on film, if I didn’t mind. I got creative. Later on he’d enjoy the
close-up footage of crotch. He almost missed his plane, lingering so long to say goodbye to Jamie. Holding him, touching his
face. He took back his cam and kissed me on the cheek before sprinting off.

Jamie was quiet on the way home. He kicked off his shoes and huddled on the seat, hugging his knees and gazing out the side
window. I glanced over once to see a tear streak down his cheek.

“What’s the matter?” I turned down the volume on
America’s Country Countdown
. “Aren’t you glad he came?”

Jamie didn’t answer for a long minute. “I love him,” he finally said. “I don’t know when I’ll ever get to see him again. Maybe
never.”

“Don’t say that.”

Jamie scraped a tear off his face with a knuckle and added, “It’s hard. This is so fucking hard.”

The ache spread through me. The distance between them, the uncertainty of ever being together. I understood. Same with me
and Xanadu. But we were going to be together. I felt it in my soul. It was only hard now.

I wanted to joke around with Jamie, tease him about last night. But he seemed detached, sad. Not the right time.

I dropped in behind a Sysco Food truck and rode his tail all the way to Kansas. When we crossed the state line, I said aloud
what I’d been thinking—dwelling on—for the last hundred miles. “I’m telling her.”

Jamie blinked awake. He rubbed his eyes. “What? Who?”

“Xanadu,” I said. “I’m telling her.”

“Telling her what?” Jamie said in a yawn.

I kept my eyes on the road. “How I feel about her.”

He swiveled his head. When he didn’t say anything, I turned to meet his eyes. “You’re going to tell Xanadu how you feel about
her.”

I nodded.

“Are you crazy!” he cried.

It made me flinch.

“You can’t do that.”

I resumed concentrating on the road. “Why not? I think she should know.”

“And when she does, what? What do you think’s going to happen? She’s going to say, ‘Oh Mike. I never knew.’” He covered his
heart with both hands. “‘Why, I love you too. I guess I’ll turn gay now and dump Bailey for you.’ Is that what you expect?”

I scoffed. “Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m stupid?” His voice rose. “Mike—” He stopped. We passed a sign for Goodland, thirty miles. Jamie said quietly, “Don’t
do it.”

“I’m going to,” I said.

I couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t think about anything else. I’d made up my mind. Miracles don’t happen. You make them happen.
They’re not wishes or dreams or candles on a cake. They’re not impossible. Reality is real. It’s totally and completely under
my control. It was time for action, control. Time for me to take charge of my life.

That night, after Darryl reamed me out royally for not calling—like he actually cared I was gone—I lay in bed on my familiar
lumpy mattress, soaking in my poster of naked Maserati girl and reconfirming my commitment. People should know how you feel
about them. Before it’s too late, you should tell them. Before they’re gone and you can’t remember the last time he said,
“I love you.” Or you said it back. You can’t remember if he kissed you good night or told you to sleep well, sleep tight,
baby. If you took it for granted that he was always there. Then he wasn’t.

We were lucky, me and Xanadu. We had time. The time was now. We didn’t have the distance to keep us apart, like Jamie and
Shane. There was nothing separating us. Nothing but the truth.

I loved her.

She needed to know.

And what would happen when she did? Maybe, just what Jamie’d said. She’d realize she was making the biggest mistake of her
life with Bailey McCall. She’d come to her senses. She’d come to me.

M
onday morning Xanadu attacked me in the hall. “Why didn’t you call me? I left you about a hundred messages on your machine
and you never called back.”

I downloaded books from my locker into my arms for morning classes and shut the door. “We didn’t get home until late yesterday.”
By then I was wiped, needed to think, plan. “Shane stayed over Saturday night in Denver with Jamie.”

“Really?” Xanadu’s eyes gleamed. “Did they… do it?”