Revoltingly Young (14 page)

10:45 p.m. Trying to make a good impression, I was right on time at Uma’s house. It was just the three of us for dinner: me, my future wife, and her aunt Rosa. Uma’s dad was busy at work training some new dealers. He’s chartered a fleet of buses to snag more seniors and is anticipating a boost in traffic. The casino business is very competitive these days since all the Indian tribes started muscling in on the action. Aunt Rosa made chicken cacciatore, one of her specialties. Very delicious. I can only hope Uma proves as culinarily gifted down the road. The conversation, though, got a little scary in spots.

“
Noel, are you Catholic?” asked Aunt Rosa, getting down to basics.

My Consuela experience had prepared me for such a question.

“
Yes, I am,” I lied.

“
That’s odd,” she commented, “I don’t recall seeing you in the congregation at St. Paul’s.”

“
Uh, we usually go to the Church of Christ. It’s closer.”

Eyebrows were raised around the table, some in warning.

“
The Church of Christ! How extraordinary! That’s certainly taking ecumenicalism to a new level.”

“
Well, my grandmother can’t walk very far–though she prefers St. Paul’s, of course.”

Aunt Rosa appeared somewhat mollified.

“
And when, Noel, was your last confession?”

Uma smiled into her plate; it appeared she was enjoying my grilling.

“
Uh, my last confession? Yes, uh, that was last week. Very, uh, absolving.”

“
You sound most devout, Noel. Did you have Father Gillis or Father Sheldrake?”

“
Uh, I don’t know. It was kind of dark and they were behind a screen.”

“
Well, of course. But you can always tell which is which from their voices. I generally prefer Father Gillis. He takes ones transgressions much more seriously. Sin is no frivolous matter to him.”

“
Yes, well, fortunately I don’t have that many sins. Speaking personally, that is.”

“
We are all sinners, Noel. I believe I witnessed some in our back-yard pool. Very recently, in fact.”

I colored and shoveled in the chicken. Uma was right. We needed to get that uptight religious chick married off. If she weren’t around, Uma and I could be going at it in style and comfort.

After dinner we loaded the dishwasher and cleaned up, while Aunt Rosa retired to the family room to watch TV. Uma sneaked us a glass of wine and I sneaked many scorching kisses. Then we went out and sat by the pool in adjoining lounge chairs and watched the sun go down. I screwed up my courage, grasped my darling’s hand, and told her I loved her.

“
I don’t know if we’re mature enough for love, Noel. I certainly share your sense of intense infatuation. I enjoyed being alone with you last night.”

“
Me too.”

“
I never realized that our bodies react so strongly to kissing. It really is a powerful antecedent to intercourse. I got quite wet after a time.”

I appreciated that Uma now felt comfortable enough with me to discuss the state of her vagina.

“
Yes, Uma, I seem to respond to kissing in that way also.”

“
You do indeed, Noel. Though from what I can see, you can get turned on just from talking.”

I looked down. She had a point there.

FRIDAY, July 29 – Toby has achieved his 15 minutes of fame. The
Humboldt Star
came out today, and there he was with sandwich board on the front page of the inside section. Here is the news article in its entirety:

Wedding’s Longest March?

Winnemucca. Local teen Noel L. Wescott, 15, can now be seen treading the boards of downtown in his role as super salesman for a local wedding chapel. He also assists at weddings and commitment ceremonies, where he plays the role of “Toby,” a 19
^th
Century rustic servant. Wescott reports he enjoys the work and is happy to do his part to bring both residents and visitors closer together. The hard-working youth calculates by the end of summer he will have carried his signs over 2,500 miles. That’s a lot of shoe leather devoted to love.

Are those people incapable of basic math? I just made up that mileage estimate off the top of my head. I can’t believe they actually printed it. The photo wasn’t that flattering as young Toby was sweating like a pig.

Nevertheless, Grandma was thrilled and rushed out to buy a dozen copies. I scanned the article into my computer and e-mailed the file to Awanee. She’ll have to be content with that photo until I can scrape up some more. Perhaps I can dig up some shots of Brandon De Wilde on the Web and pass those off as candid views of her absent beau. I also sent the story to my brother, though he has yet to reply to my last e-mail. Even if he is still in Europe, he must have taken along some sort of laptop. I feel I just don’t rate with that guy. He could be a vital father figure for me if he wasn’t so fucking aloof.

Mr. Dugan commented that in future interviews I should insist they mention the full name, address, and operating hours of his business. He also was pissed that in cropping the photo the editors seemed more interested in showing Toby than his sign. I hope I don’t wind up some small-town businessman grubbing for dollars like my boss. God knows what I’ll be when I grow up. At present I have no discernible occupational aspirations, although I think being a roadie for a rock band might suit me. As long as I don’t have to lug anything heavy.

On one of his rounds this afternoon Toby ran into Mrs. Greene, my fantasy mom. She congratulated me on my news article, then spilled her guts. It seems Jamal has signed up with an online dating service and has been corresponding with some 23-year-old black woman in Reno. Well, that explains why I hadn’t heard lately from my pal.

“
If that woman shows up in town, I’m going to have her arrested!” Mrs. Greene declared. “Carlyle is only 15!”

True enough, but what parents don’t understand is a 23-year-old woman is exactly what a 15-year-old boy needs. For example, I could use one right now to help me get ready for Uma. I mean high school sex-education classes are helpful, but there’s no substitute for practical experience. I wonder if Jamal’s babe has a friend?

9:37 p.m. Jamal just went home empty-handed. He came over to borrow bus fare to Reno, but I had to decline. I pleaded poverty, but actually I didn’t want to piss off Mrs. Greene. I hope he doesn’t do anything desperate. He seems quite gone on Rashilla, even though they’ve never met and only spoken a few times by phone.

“
This Rashilla,” I inquired, “does she think you’re black?”

“
Sure. I sent her my picher.”

“
And you want to have sex with her?”

“
Yeah, and so does she. The bitch say she wants to untie my dick.”

“
You told her about that feature, did you?”

“
Right on, baby.”

“
If you like her, why are you calling her a bitch?”

“
That’s just the lingo, dude. Get with the program.”

“
And what happens when you take off your clothes and she finds out the rest of you is white?”

“
No problem, man. It’s going to be like really dark. Dig it?”

“
And if you spend the night, will it be really dark the next morning?”

“
Damn!”

Jamal gave the matter some thought.

“
Well, by then the bitch will be like totally digging me. She won’t mind.”

“
Jamal, it’s not legal for a chick that old to have sex with a kid our age.”

“
Why the fuck not? We couldn’t be havin’ no sex if the guy wasn’t turned on.”

“
A valid point, but I don’t write the laws. You could both be arrested.”

“
Tell it to the judge, man. Don’t be tellin’ it to me!”

11:15 p.m. Had a long phone chat with Uma. She has such a sexy voice I felt like I was getting an erection in my ear. Is that possible? I told her about Jamal, and she thinks we should sign up her aunt Rosa for online dating. A great idea. It’s the perfect way to troll for cultivated and single Catholic men who dig ex-nuns who can cook.

“
Has your aunt Rosa ever had a date?” I asked.

“
Not to my knowledge.”

“
Wow. That’s a lot of years of going without.”

“
I know. It’s no wonder she’s always vacuuming. A dust ball doesn’t stand a chance in this house.”

“
I noticed it was pretty spotless. I miss you, darling.”

“
I’m only a mile a way.”

“
Shall I come over and sneak up to your room?”

“
I don’t think so. You’ll have even more to talk about in confession.”

“
What?”

“
My aunt’s going to check you out with the priests, you know. I couldn’t believe you said what you did. I’ve been thinking it over. We’ll have to get you to confession soon.”

“
Are you out of your mind? I’m not a Catholic!”

“
Don’t worry, Noel. I can coach you.”

“
I’ll be struck dead by lightning, Uma. The Pope will send his agents after me with instructions to shoot to kill!”

“
Well, the alternative is having Aunt Rosa totally pissed at you. The one thing worse for her than being non-Catholic is being a lying non-Catholic. She’ll make it hard for me to see you.”

Damn. Now I have to go spill my guts to some nosy priest. All for the oft chance of getting laid. And what assurance do I have that my confessor hasn’t been buggering some altar boy?

11:53 p.m. I downloaded some songs from a band that Uma recommended, the Winking Pixies. Pretty cool group. If they ever link up with my current favorite band, they’d be the Winking Pickled Pixie Punks. On that note, I think I’ll hit the sack.

SATURDAY, July 30 – On the bus to Las Vegas. Yeah, I’m going to visit my brother. It wasn’t his idea or mine. Veeva phoned early this morning and said it was time to “beard the lion in its den.” She knows Nick is back because her mother talked to him last night. He’s also scheduled to perform this weekend. I’m meeting Veeva and Tyler in Vegas, and we’re going to get my brother to spill about his past or die trying. The whole idea sounds kind of half-baked and impulsive, but there’s no resisting Veeva once she’s made up her mind. I had to call up and cancel my date with Uma. We were going to watch “Hud” on DVD at her house and hope that the adults hit the sack early. This “physical intimacy” business is amazingly addictive. To hell with my brother and his tempestuous youth. All I really want to do is hole up with Uma somewhere private and merge our living flesh.

If the spying chick sitting next to me doesn’t stop trying to read what I’m typing on this screen, I’m going to bean her over the head with my laptop.

There, that did it.

She looked at me like I was a maniac, got up, and moved to another seat.

I can’t say I blame her for snooping. The scenery out the window is beyond boring.

8:12 p.m. Veeva met me at the sweltering bus station. Not surprisingly, she had jetted to Vegas first-class. A quick one-hour flight, while I’d been rattling around on that damn bus all day long. After greeting me with an extremely warm kiss, she said Tyler had decided at the last minute that football practice was more important than an illuminating weekend in Vegas with us. I suppose you don’t win all those trophies without some seriously misplaced priorities.

We took a cab to Nick’s house. Fortunately, Veeva had Mapquest directions to his address from downtown since our Pakistani cabdriver was clueless. He says Las Vegas is growing so fast there’s no way he can keep up with all the new streets and developments. My brother’s house is this big two-story stucco affair on top of a desert rise that had been shaved off flat. Nice views in all directions if you like the sight of endless tile-roofed houses swallowing up the desert. No way I’d want to be one of the guys who had to swing a hammer for a living in that sizzling heat.

Nick wasn’t there, but his girlfriend Ada Olson let us in. She was quite surprised to hear we had decided to pay him a birthday visit. The house was full of boxes like someone was moving, which turned out to be the case.

“
So why are you moving, Ada?” I asked. She was an extremely cute blond I would rate at least a 9.5 on a scale of 10.

“
Oh, the usual reason.”

“
What’s that?”

“
Don’t be dense, Noel,” hissed Veeva.

“
I don’t get it,” I insisted.

Veeva sighed. “OK, Noel, somebody here has found a new squeeze.”

“
You’re ditching my brother, huh?” I asked.

“
Quite the contrary,” she replied.

“
Then why are
you
the one moving?” asked Veeva. “If I may be so nosy.”

“
Oh, I don’t know,” she replied. “This was Nick’s house before I arrived. I’m trying to avoid things getting too ugly. How long have you had dentures?”

Veeva laughed. “Everyone asks me that. They’re real.”

“
Really?” said Ada. “Mind if I look at them? I’m a dental surgeon.”

“
Be my guest,” said Veeva, opening wide.

“
Extraordinary,” said Ada. “You have absolutely the most perfect teeth I’ve ever seen.”