Know Not Why: A Novel (19 page)

Whateverrrr.

“Oh my God, you guys are
losers
, what is
this, a middle school choir concert?” Cora exclaims when she
finally pays attention to us, but she takes the flowers and smells
them and she’s smiling a lot, so I’m pretty sure she’s just
bitching in her special Cora way. What she really means is that she
loves us. She loves us, and we love her, and is that awesome, or is
that awesome? That’s
awesome
, man! Heather Grimsby can’t
ruin a thing like that! Cora looks at me, and I grin at her,
because, man, we are just
buddies
.

“Jenkins,” she says, grinning broadly, “you’re
shitfaced.”

“Whatchoo talkin’ ‘bout, Caldwell?”

“Yeah,” Kristy reports. “He had like six of
those space shot thingiemajigs. It’s
adorable
.”

“I’m not
adorable
,” I protest, making a
face at her. “I’m totally cool right now.”

I notice all of a sudden that Heather Grimsby is
walking out the door. Just walkin’, walkin’, walkin’ away. Good
riddance, Bitchy McBitcherson. Don’t barf on anyone on your way
out.

“Bitch got
ooowned
,” I mutter, sneering
at her shiny hair, watching her disappear. Later, hater.

“What?” Cora asks.

“You heard nothing,” I tell her, real serious.
It’s serious business. Serious business all over the place.

“Drunk Howie’s kinda sexy,” Cora declares,
latching her arm through mine and leaning up against me.

“Hey hey hey.” I try to shake her off. Enough’s
enough
. “Not again. My ear just healed.”

“Cocktease,” Cora accuses, smirking.

WELL, JEEZ, CORA. Tell the whole flippin’
world
, why dontcha?

“Nuh uh,” I force out. “I don’t … do …
that.”

She just laughs and kisses me on the cheek and
doesn’t say anything else about cocks. God, she’s nice. God, I love
Cora.

Kristy and Cliff wind up taking off (Cliff’s cat
misses her, or so she says – can cats really miss people? I hope
so, man, because that, that’s so
beautiful
, right??), and
that means it’s just me and Artie. You know I’m down with that. I
love me some Artie.

The parking lot ain’t so easy to get across, on
account of the fact that there’s ice motherflippin’ everywhere and
walking is sort of like
woOoOoooOoo
. Arthur finally winds up
just linking his arm through mine, real tight, and we walk really
slow. There are other people around, but I don’t think it really
matters. Dudes used to walk around arm in arm all the time. That
just meant they were classy. Classy like Lassie. It’s like, we just
so happen to be fellows of
style
and
refinement
. We
are
gentlemen.

“We,” I tell Arthur, “are so gentlemanly.”

“Is that right?” he asks, smiling at me.

“Fo’ schizzle, mah nizzle.”

“Spoken like a true gentleman.”

“You know what I like? Top hats.”

“Top hats are nice.” We’re at the car all of a
sudden, and Arthur opens the passenger’s seat door for me. “All
right, into the car, gentleman friend.”

I let him usher me in, then keep talking while
he walks around the car to the other side. Dude, I got things to
say.

“Bowler hats,” I declare. “Hats are cool. How
come nobody ever wears
hats
anymore? Except, like, ‘I’m
cold’ hats. People used to wear hats because they looked cool. How
come nobody ever looks cool anymore? It’s so fucking
sad
,
that’s what it is. How come nobody cares about anything anymore at
all, like,
at all
?”

“I care about things,” Arthur replies.

“Me too!” I notice I’m talking sort of loud, but
whatever, man, that’s
it
, that is
it
exactly, I
love
this guy. “See, that’s why we’re good together, man.
That’s why we work. I think we work. Do you think we work?”

“I—”

“Hey hey hey hey hey,” I interject, because he’s
got the key in the ignition and he’s about to turn it. “Don’t go
yet.”

He stops obediently. “Why not?”

“’Cause,” I say, and then I lean over and kiss
him. I sort of miss his mouth and wind up on his cheek instead. He
starts laughing, and his face rocks a little against mine as he
laughs and dude, God, he is just so fuckin’
great
.

“You’re ridiculous,” he tells me, still
laughing, and he presses a few fingers under my chin and guides my
mouth to his. He kisses me, this nice steady kiss, and then he
breaks away. “And you taste like space juice.”

“But you like me anyway,” I check, just to make
sure.

“I like you anyway.” He kisses me on the
forehead. His mouth is like the greatest mouth. “I very much like
you anyway.”

“Mmmm.” Feeling really good, I lean back into my
seat, let my head fall back against the headrest. It’s really
fucking cold in here, but I still feel, I dunno, really
comfortable. I think maybe it’s his fault, like, wherever he is,
I’m good. “You know what, you might be a fuckin’ man and
everything, but you’re still like the best girlfriend
I’ve
ever had.”

“Girlfriend?” he repeats skeptically.

Oh, right.

“Boyfriend,” I correct. I don’t really like
saying it. “Man, that’s weird.”

“It’s a change,” Arthur agrees. I can’t tell if
I pissed him off or not. God, I hope he’s not pissed off.

I start feeling like, I dunno, I owe him
something. An explanation. He’s really fucking nice to me all the
time, with his smiling when I’m a crazy bastard, and his kickass
kissing, so you know, fine. An explanation,
he shall have.
“You know Heather Grimsby?”

“From the salon next door? Who sat in front of
us tonight?”

“Yeah, that’s her.” I sneer, thinking back to
the shiny hair. Fuck you, shiny hair, and fuck the head you grew
on. “She was my girlfriend. My first girlfriend. Senior fuckin’
year, man.”

“You didn’t seem very friendly,” Arthur
remarks.

“Yeah,” I say impatiently. “That’s ‘cause
I
hate her.
”

“Oh really?”

“She’s only the worst thing that’s ever happened
to me,” I scowl. “And having to be in the same room with her was
just like,
aaaaaaughhhhh!!
, you know? I think,” I continue,
sort of lying, because I
know
, man,
know
, “that’s why
I drank the space juice. She got me so freaked out. She freaks me
out
, dude. I don’t usually ever drink.”

“You don’t?”

“I
don’t
. Or, like, I dunno, I’ll have a
beer or whatever, but I don’t get drunk. Drunk I don’t do. I don’t
do drunk.”

“Oh yeah?”

”
Yeah
. I don’t like it, you know? I don’t
like not being, like, in charge of me. I need to be the master of
me, so I don’t do anything stupid. I don’t want people thinking I’m
stupid. But I dunno, this isn’t so bad. I didn’t do anything
stupid, did I?”

“No more than usual.” He smiles at me.

Oh, Artie.

“What happened with Heather Grimsby?” he
continues.

Oh, shit. I can’t explain
this part.

“Prom,” I reply, and that’s it.

There’s a long pause.

“What about prom?” he finally asks.

“I can’t tell you, man,” I reply. I feel kind of
like frickin’ nauseated even thinking about it.

“All right,” Arthur agrees easily.

It gets all quiet, except for the music he’s got
going on the stereo. It’s something nice and calm and piano-y. All
I can think about is Heather now. Heather and that fucking night,
Goddddddd.

“Okay, fine, I’ll tell you,” I say at last,
turning so I can look at him. “But you can’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t.”

“You swear?”

“I swear.”

That seems good enough.

I look back out at the road in front of us,
because I realize I don’t really want to tell him while I’m looking
at him. All the street lights are on. They’re so nice against the
dark.

“So,” I say, “she and I like started going out
or whatever toward the end of senior year. And I didn’t really like
her. Or, well, I did, but I
really
was just like crazy about
Celia Burke, who was one of her friends. She was so fucking pretty
and smart and nice, like, Kristy-nice – she was a lot like Kristy –
and everyone was just frickin’ all over Celia Burke. If you had to
like a girl, Celia Burke was the perfect girl. For liking. But it’s
like,
she
wasn’t ever gonna date me, you know? She went out
with my brother for awhile. My brother was like friggin’ awesome.
Everyone loved my brother. That hasn’t really changed, actually.
But anyway. So, I used to think what it would be like if she
suddenly decided she was into me or whatever, but she didn’t, and –
okay, wait, but first, my best friend? Amber? She was totally in
love with my brother, like, she’s been in love with him since we
were all like ten. It’s fucking terrible but, I dunno, she just
never really got
over
it. I wish she would get over it. It’s
such a fucking sucky situation.

“But anyway, for junior prom, the two of us, we
just went together, me and Amber, and it was great, but then for
senior prom, Dennis wasn’t dating anybody, and he always got along
well with Amber – but
as a friend,
just as a friend
,
and she just doesn’t
get it
– and so he wound up asking her.
And it was like the greatest thing that had ever happened in her
whole life, so she was all like, ‘Yay, oh my God, I get to go to
prom with Dennis.’ So then I was like fuckin’ screwed and I didn’t
have anyone to go with. So finally, I just like mustered up all
this courage or … I don’t even fuckin’ know, man, I don’t know how
I did it, but I finally just asked Celia. And she already had a
date – like, of course. It was fucking Ryan Thompson, like, ‘Ooh,
I’m so fuckin’ special, I can bounce a fuckin’ basketball!’ but
whatever, whatever. I’m over it. The point is, Celia, because she
was so nice and everything, told me that Heather Grimsby didn’t
have a date and I should go with Heather Grimsby. So she like set
us up.

“And it was a few weeks before prom, when we got
that all set up and all, so it’s sort of like she was just my
girlfriend for awhile. And, I dunno. This girl kissed me once on a
dare in like seventh grade, but that was just like whatever, so I’d
never even really
kissed
anyone ‘til Heather. And that
really fucking sucked, you know? Like, that’s weird. Like, it’s
sort of okay if you’re a girl, I guess, but if you’re a guy, that
just isn’t gonna fly. That’s just not okay. And by the time you’re
a senior, you know, it’s like if you haven’t had sex you’re some
kind of weird pariah leper thing. You know what sounds a lot like
pariah leper? Piranha leopard.”

“That’s true,” Artie allows, graciously.

“Piranha leopard. That’s awesome.” God, I don’t
like telling this story. But whatever, whatever. Might as well
finish. Then I will just like move the fuck on. “So, I dunno,
Heather was the first girl I ever really did any of that with, but
I didn’t sleep with her, but then after the prom her parents were
out of town, so she had this party. And she just got like totally
wasted
, man, it was ridiculous. And then she wanted to like
go fool around or whatever, so we were in her parents’ room and she
was just like all over me, which was good, because it was like,
‘Finally,’ right? Like, I was finally just gonna like get it over
with. But then when she started, like, getting really serious about
it, I just – I dunno, she was so drunk, and she kept
giggling
, and so I said maybe she should just get some sleep
or whatever, and she got all, ‘What? Don’t you want to?’ And it’s
like – she just wouldn’t shut up about it, after that. ‘Don’t you
want to, Howie, why don’t you want to, Howie, haven’t you done it
before, Howie?’ And I wasn’t really even saying anything back,
because what the fuck are you going to
say back
?, you know.
And then.”

I stop, because I’ve never said it before. Not
ever. It’s the thing that I don’t ever, ever say. You don’t just go
around
saying
the thing you don’t ever, ever say.

It’s like I can still hear her, though. And see
her, too. In the dark, her makeup kind of smudged and her fancy
prom curls going limp like they’re giving up on life. She’s too
close, half-on my lap, one hand on my shoulder and her face too
open, in that loose drunk way, all covered in laughter. And then,
that stupid whisper.
Are you gay?

And then that moment where all I had to do was
say no.

And then whoosh, there that went, and it was
over, and her eyes went all big, and it was like,
Oh my God, oh
my God, you
are
, you’re gay, you took me to prom and you’re
GAY!, that is so fucked up, does anybody else know, is that why
your best friend’s a girl, who do you like, holy shit, why haven’t
you told anyone?
and the only thing that shut her up was
suddenly realizing she had to puke, and doing it all over me
because the toilet was too far away. And I put her to bed in her
prom dress, not really friggin’ caring if it got wrinkled or
whatever, and changed her parents’ sheets as best I could with my
hands shaking so hard and then I went home and I never talked to
her again.

“Howie?” Arthur says. He reaches over with his
right hand and rests it on my knee.

I spit it out. “She asked if I was gay. And
that’s why I didn’t want to jump her lady bones or whatever. And I
didn’t say anything, because it’s like, even though I
wasn’t
I just couldn’t tell her no for some reason. Like, I knew I had to
– I
knew
it, man – but I just couldn’t for some reason. Like
her hair was a bad influence on my voice and they decided to give
up on life together.” I remember that I didn’t say that part out
loud, so I helpfully add, “Her hair totally looked like it was
giving up on life, at that point. And so – she just decided that I
was. But it’s okay, because then she threw up all the fuck over me,
and pretty much passed out, and who even knows if she remembers.
But just in case, I stay away from her, because it’s like – what if
she does? You know.”