Once we’re back home, I run to the downstairs bathroom and close and lock the door. I haven’t had a moment alone since church. On our way home in the car she kept checking on me in the backseat. Finally I take my phone out of my pocket. A bunch of texts from Henry:
When can I cu?
Tonight?
I tried calling. Know ur at church. Call when u can.
At least text me back.
I want to hurt her like she hurts u. I’m sorry. Plz call me.
There’s a text from Gaige:
Heading home. If I come here 4school maybe we can hang.
There’s also a text from Jeremy and a video:
Panos, ur boy is back in da game! U lft when it started gettin goooooood! Tlk 2morrow.
What the fuck is Jeremy talking about? I click on the video. It won’t load. Reception down here is stupid. I leave the guest bathroom and quietly open the door right next to it that leads into the garage. I try again. It starts to play. It’s a video of Henry. There’s a close-up on his face. What is he doing? The image pulls back and my heart stops and I go ice cold everywhere. It’s a video of Henry making out with Ali. Like, going at it. I can hear Jeremy laughing and then a hand covers the camera, and Henry’s voice says, “Shut that thing off, asshole!”
I drop and sit on the garage floor, feeling sick to my stomach. I trusted Henry with so much. I felt safe confiding in him. Maybe that’s the problem. I gave him too much all at once. More than he could handle. I feel nauseous and stupid. I stand up, lean over, and throw up.
“Evan!” I can hear her from upstairs.
I get back inside and yell upstairs, “Just a minute. Bathroom.” I run into the bathroom and grab a towel to clean up the mess in the garage. Then I run cold water from the bathroom faucet over the dirty towel and toss it into the washing machine on the other side of the guest bath. I turn it on.
“Evan! Hurry up.”
“Coming.” From the bathroom sink I splash some water on my face, take a gulp from the running tap, rinse, spit it out, and then head upstairs.
My mother is flustered. She’s moving everywhere, hands waving, barking orders at me. I move like a robot, trying to push the image of Henry and Ali out of my mind.
There’s a knock at the door. My mother says, “That’s probably your father, and his hands are full. Get that.”
I walk to the door and open it.
At first, I think I’ve conjured him up. Henry. He says, “I know you don’t like people to come over, but I’m—”
My eyes go the size of Frisbees. “You can’t fucking be here.”
My mother’s voice: “Is that your father?”
“It’s just Henry. He needs to give me something before school tomorrow. I forgot some homework at his house.” I shoot an Are you fucking kidding me? look at him and pull the door almost closed behind me. I whisper to him, “This is the worst timing ever.”
“I know.” His voice sounds small.
“Asshole! We have church company coming over in less than twenty minutes. Sundays. Every Sunday. You know that.”
And of course suddenly my dad is there, lifting a couple of bags of ice out of the trunk of his car and calling to us. As he comes up the walk, I say, “Henry’s here to drop something off I need for school tomorrow. Mom can use your help. I’ll be in soon.”
“Okay. How are you, Henry?”
Henry smiles at him.
“Dad. Mom really needs help. People will be here soon.”
“I get it. Calm down. Going in now.” He heads into the house through the garage.
“Ev, you didn’t return my texts and I tried calling. So many times.”
“No. Not now.”
He stops and looks at me, as if he’s just seeing me. “You look so handsome in a suit.” He smiles. That smile. That fucking smile.
“What? Fuck you.”
“I can’t say something nice? What’s going on?”
“Did you say something nice before you started making out with Ali? Right after I left?”
He closes his eyes. “Ev, that’s not what—”
“Jeremy sent a video. It was awesome. Thrilling, actually. I’m an idiot.”
“Ev, no.” He tries to get closer to me.
I step back. “What are you doing? Who are you?”
“I just freaked out. Okay?” He attempts to reach for me and I flinch. He retreats.
“There’s a reason why I don’t tell people things. I can’t trust anyone.”
“No. You can!”
“You have to leave for so many reasons. And if you read all of the stuff . . . I entrusted you with the truth . . . the guy I thought you were . . .” My voice breaks. “It doesn’t matter. Please have my notebooks for me at school tomorrow, and you owe it to me to not say anything to anyone about what you know now. You owe me at least that.”
“Please, I get it. Ev, let me explain!”
“No. It’s my fault. I know better.” I hold myself steady. “Do. Not. Text or call me!” I close the door in his face and run up to my room as quickly as possible. I take off my suit and tie and put on a pair of jeans and my Converse Chucks.
“Evan?”
“Be right out, Dad. Changing.”
“I set the table, but check to see if it needs anything else.”
I fling open my door. “I’ll check it right now.” I head toward the dining room, my dad following behind.
“Nice to see Henry.”
“Yep.”
“Everything okay?”
“Where’s Mom?” I scan the table.
“She’s changing.”
“I think we may need dessert plates. I’ll get ’em.”
“You should have asked Henry to stay. His family had you over for dinner the other night. We should have returned the favor with—”
“Are you kidding, Eli?” My mother enters, holding her left wrist out. He proceeds to clasp her bracelet as I’m carrying in dessert plates.
“No, it would have been nice.”
“This is a good Christian crowd. The right kind. We don’t need that element in our home. It’s enough he sees him at school and when they do tennis.” She looks over the table and then at me. “Those jeans are too tight.”
“They’re the only ones that aren’t in the washer.” I start to place the dessert plates on the table.
There’s a knock at the door. She frowns at my father. “Ugh. Eli, get that.” She stares at me. “Then pull your shirt out. No one needs to see all that.” She moves to pull the shirt from inside my pants and I instinctively jolt away, dropping the remaining plates on the floor. The crash happens quickly, but I see it as if it’s happening in slow motion. I turn to look at her. Her face is calm and she smiles at me. I can hear my father down by the front door. “Welcome. Welcome.” She turns away from me and heads for the door. “Thank you so much for coming. Don’t you all look wonderful.”
The evening is our version of dinner theater, except there are no mistakes. Everyone remembers their lines and hits their marks. Once dinner is done and every guest is escorted graciously to the front door, I help my mother clean up. She looks at me as I’m gathering dishes from the table and says, “Honey. You look so nice tonight.” She strokes the left side of my face. “Thank you for being so good this evening.”
I’m not sure what was different, but I say, “You’re welcome,” as I continue clearing the table. My dad’s outside having a cigarette.
“You’re so much like me. We love beauty and understand its power. It’s why you draw and make your room nice.” She’s wrapping the leftovers individually and making a precise cluster out of all of them. All grouped together, they look like a little town. “I want you to know that I appreciate that. I see that. You’re special.” She puts down the dish she’s working on and comes over to where I’m standing and hugs me. She must still be processing my kiss with Gaige. Maybe this is a new technique, and it’s completely freaking me out.
“Mom, I don’t feel very good. Is it okay if I go lie down?”
“Go. Do you want me to make you some chamomile tea?”
“No. I just need to sleep.”
“Okay. Night, honey, and thank you again for tonight.”
This behavior scares the shit out of me. I close the door behind me and grab some paper and a pencil and get into bed.