Wide Awake (7 page)

eight

“Did you see Keisha up there?” Mira asked as soon as I got back downstairs.

I could tell from her voice: She had no idea. There wasn’t a thread of suspicion in the question.

“Know,” I said, understanding full well that it would come out as “no.” Lying to myself that I wasn’t entirely lying.

She believed me, because she didn’t think she had any reason not to. I wanted to say,
Go upstairs yourself,
but at that moment I heard footsteps coming down.

Sara.

She had a big smile for me.

“Welcome to the victory party, Duncan!” she said. There wasn’t a crack in her cheer, not a scruple out of place in her expression.

“I’ve got to find Jimmy,” I replied. What I really meant was:
I’ve got to get away.

It must have shown. Even if Mira and Sara couldn’t see it, Jimmy could.

“What’s wrong?” he asked me.

“Nothing,” I said. Then, when he didn’t look satisfied with that answer, I nodded toward the open screen and said, “Kansas.”

The newsreader cut to a live news conference at the opponent’s headquarters.

We turned up the volume.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the good people of America, believers in democracy and defenders of freedom everywhere, I address you tonight because over the past twelve hours a good number of events have come to light in the state of Kansas that have given me clear and fair reason to believe that the election for the next President of the United States is not yet over. Because of this new and important information, I will not concede the election, and will call upon my opponent to refrain from declaring an end to this contest until all of the American people, including the good and honest people of Kansas, have had their rightful say. Grave and serious doubts about the election have been raised, and when they are answered, I expect both the truth and the facts will show that I have won the state of Kansas, and thus the Presidency, a sacred office to which I pledge my undying devotion and loyalty. Whether it takes ten more hours, ten more days, or ten more weeks to determine the true and fair winner of this most important contest, I will remain strong and steadfast until that truth is revealed. May the great God shine on America, and may freedom ring forever and ever, amen.”

“The man always uses twenty words when two will do!” Virgil burst out.

The dancing had stopped now. We all watched as Stein took the podium at his own headquarters.

“He doesn’t look that happy,” Jimmy mumbled to me.

He was right. Stein looked like he’d been through a tornado, with pieces of his house still in his hair.

“This can’t be good,” Janna murmured.

As soon as Stein got to the microphone and the reporters quieted down, he went right to the point.

“What is happening in Kansas is politics as usual, and it’s not good politics. We have won Kansas fair and square and we are not going to be bullied or intimidated into losing a state that we won. The American people have spoken, and half a million more of them voted for me than voted for my opponent. In Kansas, a thousand more of them voted for me than voted for my opponent. These are the facts, and we will let them guide us. We will not let rogue members of my opponent’s party throw the election. A democratic nation will not tolerate that.”

It was an amazing thing to watch: The more Stein spoke, the more the fire in him blazed. Even if he’d started out weary, each word seemed to energize his presence. It made me believe in him once more.

But the truth was: It wasn’t over. We had thought it was over. We had thought we’d won. But instead the fight had only intensified.

Sensing this, Virgil turned off the screen and stood in front of it. Sara moved to his side. I looked back and saw that Keisha had returned to the room. I avoided her gaze, because I knew if I caught it, she’d see I was unable to look her in the eye.

“Well, folks, it’s looking like our victory party was a little premature,” Virgil told us. “But whatever’s thrown our way, we can take it. If we’ve gotta fight for our right, so be it. Wherever we have to take a stand, we’ll take a stand. Because those bastards aren’t going to take the Presidency away from us. No amount of fear they throw our way is going to do that. Am I right?”

We all nodded.

“What’s that?” Virgil wasn’t pleased. “I don’t think I heard you. Let’s try this again.
Am I right?
”

“Yes!” we called out.

“And are you with me?”

“Yes!”

“Pump up the jam a little more, kids.
Are you with me?
”

“YES!”

Virgil nodded. “That’s more like it.”

I looked at the blank screen behind him. That seemed as good an image as any to show how we felt—we weren’t sure where we were, or what we were supposed to do, or even what was going on. I knew we were supposed to feel rallied, but mostly I felt confused. Let down, even. Like we’d just run a marathon and were now being told they’d added a twenty-seventh mile. And a twenty-eighth. And maybe even more after that.

If this made me depressed, it made Jimmy angry. He just kept shaking his head, cursing.

“This can’t be happening,” he said.

I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned and found Mira and Keisha, holding hands.

“What now?” Mira asked.

I couldn’t stop looking at their hands. So casually together.

“Duncan?” Keisha asked.

I saw you,
I wanted to say. But not with Mira there.

“I’ve gotta go,” I said instead.

“I’m with you,” Jimmy said. “Let’s walk to mine.”

We said our good-byes. Virgil and Sara told us they’d let us know as soon as they found out what the next steps were. Flora gave us each another big hug. Then we were out in the night, the conversations of the house fading behind us.

Nothing felt right.

nine

It was about a twenty-minute walk to Jimmy’s house, and we were silent for the first ten. I kept flashing back to Sara and Keisha, and then to the oblivious look on Mira’s face. And I kept seeing Stein before he started talking, and I wondered which was the truth—his expression then or the energy he gave us when he was speaking. Did he secretly think it was over? Would the opposition manage to sway everything yet again?

Jimmy took my hand, and I had to chase out the image of Mira and Keisha holding hands just like us.

Finally Jimmy said, “It’s just too much.” And at first I thought he was talking about Mira and Keisha. Then I realized, of course, he had no idea. And I didn’t want to tell him, because there wasn’t anything he could do, either. Telling him would just make him feel as bad as I felt, and I didn’t see any reason for that. I would just have to hold on to it myself.

“So close and yet so far,” I agreed.

“We can’t let it happen.”

He lifted his fingers out of mine and started to rub my arm. I pressed in a little more. His touch was nice. Very nice.

We started to kiss, right there on the sidewalk. Not light pecks or sweetheart affections. No—this was need and this was desire and this was our way of trying to negate all the negativity around us. This was what the opposition always wanted to stop, so we did it and did it and did it.

“Let’s get to yours,” I said.

“Let’s,” he said.

And although we didn’t run, we walked faster than before. Because we knew what was next. We let our anticipation block everything else out.

I had been the hesitant one at first, and he hadn’t pushed. He wanted me to be ready, and I used that word as my guide—I was waiting until the word
ready
fit how I felt. Then I’d know it was time to go all the way.

In the beginning, I couldn’t get the questions out of my head when we made out.
Am I doing this right? Should I take off my shirt or should I wait for him to do it? How fast is too fast? What if I finish before he does?
I would echo his movements, because that seemed safe. I enjoyed the kissing the most, because sometimes it would be the slowest, most quieting thing, the most intense kind of breathing.

Then I started to let my hands feel, to let my skin react.

He would joke with me, and I’d relax. He’d whisper out-of-the-blue song lyrics in my ear. He’d ask me what I liked and tell me what he liked. I found myself developing a memory of such things. I learned his body, his rhythm, his flutter, his gasp. And slowly all my unspoken questions were answered, and I found myself enjoying it all. I found myself ready.

The first time, he tried to plan it. The right music, the soft sheets, the flowers by the bed. But the way it worked out, the music stopped halfway through, the sheets got pushed to the floor, and the flowers ended up falling on the clock. It was slow, then fast, then slow, then fast, and it was safe in so many more ways than one. It was closeness not because he was inside me but because of what it meant, what we meant, what we could do. It was so intense and so much ours, and once it started we weren’t going to stop. Sex wasn’t the full extent of our love, but our love was what made it so powerful. It was a new way of getting to know each other. Sometimes we would talk through it, and other times most of the words were knocked away and all my thoughts would form in one-word flashes—

Yes.

Wait.

Me.

There.

Mmm.

Yes.

Turn.

You.

Breathe.

Grasp.

Sweat.

Yes.

Over.

Lower.

More.

Slow.

Yes.

Y e s.

Now.

I loved being naked with him. I loved watching him when his eyes were closed, when he lost control, when he let go and let me take him. I loved when my whole body felt a part of it, when I would grasp and glide and press without having to think about it. When I let go and let my body take me.

And still, what I loved the most was the heartbeating. The heartbeating through kisses. The heartbeating through touch. The sharp, deep heartbeating when I came and the loose, lazy heartbeating of lying there after, drifting in that love-sewn quiet of lying next to him, the gentle return.

This time, we knew Jimmy’s parents were out until at least ten. We knew we had the house to ourselves. We could have talked more about the day. We could have turned on the news. But instead we slammed into each other as soon as the door was closed, dropping our book bags, shedding our jackets, stumbling to his room in between mad kisses, kicking off our shoes, pulling off each other’s shirts, unbuckling our belts, sliding off our pants, pausing for that awkward moment of sock removal, then wrestling into bed, our underwear the thinnest barrier, soon shed. It wasn’t like it had ever been before—we were saying too many things at once. This wasn’t want, this was need. We were colliding our way to comfort, shouting with our bodies, pulling ourselves close closer
closer.
I was pinning him against the mattress and he was leaning up to match my kiss with his, and I was rolling over and he was pressing our bodies together, toe to head, and we were sweating and I was ready and he was ready and we were both so ready for everything in the world to fall into place, just once, just now. I arched my back and he licked my neck. I grabbed him closer and he pulled at my hair. I was all feeling, and none of those feelings were fear. It felt like war, but I was rooting for both sides.

This was what they were afraid of. But I wouldn’t be afraid. I wouldn’t.

We stopped to be safe, then continued our push and pull until we got to the rush and then the afterwards. Lying there, I could feel my heartbeat decelerating, calming. I leaned my head on his shoulder and slowly stroked the small canyon of hair down the middle of his chest. Even in the half-light of his nighttime bedroom, I admired the ghost hairs on his neck as he let his hand fall on my leg, his skin three hues darker and one degree warmer than mine.

We stayed like this for as long as we could. This was the closest to sleep that waking could be, and I almost crossed the border. But then Jimmy asked me a question, and his voice was full of such unexpected vulnerability that I felt the full weight of my love for him…and wasn’t afraid of it, either.

“It’s all going to be okay, isn’t it?” he asked.

And I responded by holding him close and saying that whatever it took, we would make it okay.