Things Are Different - 17. Chapter 17

Things Are Different – Chapter 17

I pulled up to Scott's wearing my new clothes and a new pair of SpongeBob boxers that Dani had slipped into one of the purchases. The rain had returned with a chilling drizzle so I had to make a dash for the door. His mom answered the door almost as soon as I rang the bell.

"Jay, come in. I am sure Scott is almost ready. Of course he has been almost ready for over an hour now." She chuckled.

"Jay! Jay! Jay!" Cassie shouted as she ran up and wrapped her arms around my waist.

"Hi Cassie."

"Cassie will you let Jay go and go fetch your brother?"

"Okay and she ran up the stairs two, sometimes three, at a time.

"So what are your plans?

"My Grandmother made reservations at El Gaucho."

"Fancy and expensive."

"Really? She gave me a credit card to use. How expensive?" I was suddenly filled with more dread than I usually am. My mouth was dry.

"Well, we've never eaten there, but you should enjoy yourselves. Maybe we will go there for our anniversary."

"Ta-daa!" Cassie announce from the top of the stairs as Scott came down dressed in what Scott would call appropriate, including the required tie and jacket. The pants were tight and burgundy held up with suspenders over a plaid shirt and a bow tie with a velvet jacket. Appropriate, but unconventional. Dani had me buy some equally narrow pants that were black with a white shirt, grey plaid vest and black jacket with, of course a narrow black tie. Very understated, or so I hoped.

Scott looked really, really cute.

"Scott!" His mother had an exasperated tone to her voice and she just shook her head. I just stared.

"What?" was all he said.

"You look amazing," I interjected before she could say anything else. He did look amazing and not like anyone else, just the way he should.

Ignoring his mom, he came up to me and pulled me into his arms to give me a sensual, but quick kiss on the lips, that from the flash that briefly illuminated us, his mother apparently captured on her camera.

"Okay, I want some pictures before you go." She ushered us around to pose.

"Really, Mom?" Scott whined.

"Yes, I have to have things to embarrass you with at parties when you are older."

We stood at the door, side by side smiling, feeling foolish as she snapped more pictures.

"Okay, these will be on Facebook before you get to the restaurant."

"Great!" Scott moaned. I secretly couldn't wait to save them to my phone.

In the car Scott asked me where we were going.

"El Gaucho."

"Sounds very . . . Spanish?"

"Your mom says it is very fancy and expensive. My grandma made the reservations. Grandma also said they have valet parking, but I feel funny about using it so I thought I would just find someplace nearby and we could walk to the restaurant. Is that okay with you?"

"Yeah, I guess it is kind of weird giving your keys to some stranger and not knowing what they are going to do with it."

"I suppose if you are rich you would get used to it."

"Jay, you know I think your grandma is rich and by extension that makes you rich."

I didn't say anything. Even though I was enjoying everything she paid for; the nice house and the car, I just couldn't think of her money as mine and I was still waiting to wake up from a dream. Either that or the inevitable "you owe me" moment.

I felt lucky to find street parking on a Friday night downtown and we strolled to the restaurant. I walked with my hands in my pockets and not too close to Scott.

The doors were held open for us as we approached and were greeted with a very formal "Good evening," from a very conservatively suited man behind a podium.

"Um, there are reservations under Westwood," I tried not to mumble.

"Oh? Are you joining someone?" His tone was condescending. I was feeling very uncomfortable.

"No, just the two of us," Scott spoke up.

"Ah, here you are. I see a special table has been reserved for you." His attitude changed and just like in the cartoons I thought I saw little dollar sign symbols role into his eyes.

He seated us in a circular booth. The table cloth was white, the fabric of the booth was red, the walls were a deep blue, and the carpeting was a dizzying swirl pattern of waves. The carpeting or something made my stomach queasy. I almost felt like I was on ship at sea.

"Wow . . . wow," Scott whispered.

"Yeah," I said, "kinda nice, huh?"

"I should say." Scott couldn't keep his head from swiveling, looking at the decor and other diners. I noticed that the other people in the dining room were also staring at us. The other thing that was apparent was the age difference. Everyone else had more than their fair share of grey hair and wrinkles.

The waiter brought menus and filled our glasses with water. He looked like somebody's grandfather. He explained the specials of the day, none of which I understood.

When he left I asked Scott if understood anything that he described.

"I recognized steak, that was about it."

Opening the menu I didn't just do a double-take, I did a triple-take.

"Jay, the cheapest thing on this menu is Béarnaise sauce and that's five dollars. The cheapest entree is thirty-seven."

"My grandma said not to worry about price and just order whatever we want." I still swallowed looking at the meat heavy menu and the price of one item that was a hundred and twenty-five dollars. I couldn't imagine it being okay to order that.

"Filet mignon are supposed to be really good, aren't they?" Scott asked.

Do I admit my ignorance and say I don't know? Do I act like I know or say nothing at all?

"Are the young gentlemen ready to order?" The waiter returned.

"Um..." I started and shyly looked at Scott.

"Still trying to decide, I think." Scott rescued me. I wished that I could be as self assured as he was and just speak up.

"May I suggest the clam chowder or the French onion soup? Both are quite exquisite and a very reasonably priced and come with plenty of bread."

"Yeah, we are still looking, thanks." I could hear the tone of indignation in Scott's voice. I was the one that supposedly asked him out on the date, but I guess I know who the man is in this relationship. The waiter nodded and backed away.

"What a jerk," he muttered under his breath.

"He is an asshole," I agreed.

"I don't think you can swear in a place like this."

"Shit, oops, sorry. I mean darn it. I wanted this to be really special and I don't think is working out that way." I confessed. I felt really uncomfortable here, the kid from the gutter pretending to be something else.

"It is special, but not because of the place, but because you are here and invited me on my first date."

"This is your first date?" I asked.

"Yeah, first one ever."

"Mine too."

Scott reached for my hand under the table and squeezed it.

"Think we will get thrown out if I kissed you here?" he asked.

I couldn't help but blush and tip my head down in embarrassment. "Maybe we shouldn't do that here."

"Good old Jay, staying out of trouble," Scott said with a smile so I would know he wasn't mad at me, but I cursed myself for being so careful. "I know, how about he go someplace we can have a great meal and not get in trouble if we want to get amorous?"

"Won't they get mad if we just leave, after all we had reservations?"

"What if we leave him a nice tip?"

I put a twenty dollar bill under my untouched water glass and we left as surreptitiously as possible.

"So where are we going?" I asked outside.

"I know just the place."

The air was chilly and damp, but it wasn't really raining, though you could feel the occasional stray drop. I would have brought an umbrella, but my grandmother did not own one and on more than one occasion I was reminded that real Portlanders don't carry umbrellas. I guess they just get wet instead.

Scott brought us to a door one stop before a bar with tables full of patrons out on the sidewalk despite the random raindrop. Rainbow banners hung from poles above the bar.

"Come on in, I think you will like this place," Scott said.

"What is this place?" I asked, immediately noticing the life-sized crucified Jesus with a neon halo on the back wall above the jukebox.

"The Roxy. It's a Portland institution and the only twenty-four hour diner downtown."

It was not crowded and the server told us to sit anywhere.

We took seats towards the front near the large high heel shaped chair in the window. Scott said it was the best place to watch the comings and goings of Stark Street.

There were some comings and goings to watch on Stark Street too. There were a variety of guys that looked like they were headed to the bar next door and confused tourists that Scott said were probably looking for Jake's Famous Crawfish on the corner.

Soon after we sat, what I thought were some of the weirder denizens of downtown came bursting through the door in a clatter of heels, a hail of brightly colored clothes and loud boisterous giggling. It was a group of at least six very flamboyant young people. One of them looked to be at least seven feet tall with the eight inch platform leather boots she was wearing. Or was it a he? I was confused.

"Hollywood! Long time no see!" The tall one stopped everyone with arms flung out and stalked over to us. With a flourish the empty chair was pulled out and occupied.

"Oh, hi Jasmine," Scott responded without a lot of enthusiasm. I was surprised he responded at all, I was speechless.

Even sitting it looked as though Jasmine was nearly seven feet tall. She could not have weighed more than a hundred and thirty pounds. The hip hugging jeans and baby doll t-shirt that exposed a belly button made it clear that the body belonged to a boy, but the makeup, long blond hair and mannerism made it clear that Jasmine indentified as a girl.

"Where have you been hiding?" She leaned over hugging and kissing Scott on the lips. I hoped she did not want to kiss me too. Scott was still the only person I had ever kissed on the mouth. "And who is this cute thing?" I felt uncomfortably exposed as she looked me over.

"Um, Jasmine this is Jay. My boyfriend. Jay, this is Jasmine."

"Hi," I managed a little wave where my fingers extended just above the edge of the table.

"Oh, shy. I think that is adorable. My-my, didn't you snag a hot one Hollywood."

"Yeah, I did," Scott answered. I felt my face get hot and looked down at the scratched surface of the table.

"Well Jay, if you want to experience the wild side you just come find Jasmine. I can tell just by looking at your face you are hung like a horse and I just love riding stallions." Jasmine trailed a ridiculously long fingernail across my cheek that sent a shiver up my spine and not in a good way.

"So, what are you up to Jasmine?" Scott asked in an obvious attempt to redirect the conversation.

"Oh tweety-pie, no good and you know how good I am at that. What about you Hollywood? Things seem to be looking up for you." She raised her eyebrows at me.

"Things are good."

"Well, I can tell I am interrupting so I will leave you to fend off any nosy paparazzi yourselves." With that she cupped my chin with her taloned hand, before releasing it and letting the long jewel toned nails trail over the soft skin under my chin. "Buh-bye."

"Sorry, but what was that about? Hollywood?" I asked Scott after Jasmine took a seat with her friends towards the back of the restaurant.

"That? That was Jasmine and I don't know what to say beyond that. We met in group therapy. You know that is where I met Vanessa, right?" I nodded my head, though I didn't know if I was supposed to know that fact, since Vanessa told me and not Scott.

"Why does she call you Hollywood?"

"Just some stupid nickname." He didn't seem to want to talk about it and I wasn't going to push him. I suppose that I could ask Vanessa, but I also figured she wouldn't tell me and it would be wrong. Scott squeezed my hand.

"Let's order some Pancakes," he said.

"For dinner? For our first official date?" I asked. "Shouldn't it be something more, I don't know, elegant?"

"Oh, then Lord of the Fries!"

"Lord of the Fries?"

"A pile of chili cheese fries with extra onion of course!"

"I guess we won't be making out later."

"Umm . . . maybe something else than . . ." he looked slyly at me, "or we could do some making out now!" He leaned towards me and pressed his lips to mine. I almost pulled away, but he brought his other hand up behind my neck to hold me and I do love to kiss him, so I fell into the kiss. Despite my nervousness at kissing in public I couldn't help but momentarily forget where we were. It didn't matter, because when we broke the kiss there was a round of applause obviously initiated by Jasmine and her friends, but quickly picked up by the rest of the patrons and staff too. I ducked my head as I felt it crimson while Scott got a huge grin on his face.

"You are so sexy when you are shy," he whispered into my ear, which just made me want to crawl under the table.

Before I could duck under the table the waiter came back to get our order.

"I didn't want to interrupt earlier, but have you decided what you want? I mean off the menu." The underside of the table was looking more and more inviting.

Scott finally convinced me to have the Pamela Anderson stack of pancakes; a stack of three pancakes that really were the size of my head. Scott ordered the Phil Hartman Omelet ('it's dead inside') which was a chili cheese omelet. He did not get the extra onion, but he did get it with extra sour cream.

We sat side by side and occasionally his hand or mine would touch the thigh of the other or our hands would find each other and our fingers would intertwine. Sometimes we would lean into each other as we talked and laughed about nothing in particular, but mostly about the people that went by the window. It was much more comfortable than sitting across a table covered in starched white linen that I would be afraid I would spill something on.

When we finished our food we decided to skip the dessert offerings at the Roxy and go in search of some ice cream.

Without any real destination we walked down the street, not holding hands, but still strolling very close together. I felt comfortable in the Roxy and even around school for the most part, but walking the dark streets of the city made me a little more cautious.

"Ah! A couple new victims -- I mean customers." A man dressed in a black cloak with a very waxed and pointed Van Dyke stepped in front of us.

"Excuse me?" I said defensively and stepped slightly in front of Scott. It was ridiculous and impossibly lame, but I was preparing to protect Scott from . . . whatever.

"The next tour starts momentarily and there is room for some more." He was very tall and skeletally thin, though not old. His hair and beard were jet black though his cheek bones jutted out sharply and the joints of fingers were like marbles.

"Oh, we are so going in here, come along dah-links." My arm was grasped from behind and I was propelled towards the door. I didn't have to see the face; by the voice and the painted fingernails I knew it was Jasmine with her posse.

I was finding myself in more in more situations where I didn't seem to have any control.

"Jasmine! What if we don't want to?" Scott complained as she dragged him along too.

"Oh sweet-ums, who doesn't love an old fashioned haunted house?"

It looked like we were going to a haunted house on our first date.

"Welcome!" A man dressed in a black hooded robe and skeleton mask greeted us as we entered the building. "To the road to Hell," he finished after a pause.

"Oh, honey you look like you need some serious moisturizer," Jasmine quipped.

"I am your guide along the path to hell!" the guide ignored Jasmine. The lights went out leaving us in pitch darkness followed by a very bright flash of light that left us stunned and the room was suffused with a red glow. Our skeletal guide held up his arms and large doors opened into another room

It was a hospital operating room filled with some very authentic looking equipment. It looked like they had a pretty big budget. A teenage girl was on a table with her legs lifted in stirrups and facing away from us.

"Why are you here Stephanie?" the specter asked.

"Because I had sex and I don't want the baby!" the girl shouted.

"But what about your husband?"

"I'm not married. I don't even know the guy's name or which one is the father."

"So you want to kill the baby?"

"It's just some cells, it's not a baby!"

"Proceed doctors!" the guide ordered and the two doctors clad in hospital greens with their faces covered leaned into the area between her legs, conveniently covered by a sheet. The girl screamed as blood started to spray and one of the doctors held up a fetus dripping in blood with a soundtrack of a heartbeat and a baby’s cry in the background. The fetus was unceremoniously dropped in a waste can.

"Dear I think you need to put that muffin back in the oven, it's not done yet," Jasmine commented with a wave of her hand. Her companions giggled, though glancing around some of them looked a little uncomfortable. I had never been in a haunted house before, but this didn't seem like any haunted house I had ever heard of before.

"Doctor, I think she is dead," one of the nurses held the patient’s wrist.

"Lost another one, oh well. Next!" the other doctor replied.

"Two for the price of one!" The guide laughed maniacally as he ushered us into the next room.

This room was a tableau of a car accident complete with a real smashed car where the occupants died from drunk driving.

The third room was a dingy hotel room in the obviously seedier part of town.

"How are you doing Michelle?" The guide hovered over the woman lying on top of the stained bed. Her hair was black and matted. She wore cutoffs and halter top. When she glanced in our direction her eyes stared out of dark and sunken sockets

"It hurts!" she moaned.

"What hurts?"

"Everything!"

"You know how to make the hurt go away." The guide handed the woman a syringe. I couldn't keep myself from cringing when I saw her inject it into her arm before falling back on the bed in convulsions. The convulsions ended and her eyes stared blankly towards us. Scott grabbed my hand.

"Honey, you ain't doing it right!" Jasmine yelled. I really wanted to smash her in the face at that moment.

"Mom!" We were interrupted by a cute teenage boy that came running into the room. He kneeled by the bed and picked up the discarded needle. "God, how could you let this happen? I hate you!" he shouted.

"Hmmm, looks like I will be getting that one too in time," our guide intoned.

All I could think of as we were led into the next room was what the fuck?! Scott kept a good hold on my hand as I kept looking back at the room behind us. Was it really hot in here?

This room was in complete darkness. A flash of light and it was revealed to be a wedding chapel with white flowers. At one end, below an arch of flowers was a big man that looked vaguely familiar, but I wasn't sure. I have always been bad at remembering people. He was dressed in a red three piece suit with a red tie that ended in the middle of his big round belly and he had horns glued to his head. Within moments two young guys in tuxedos ran up to the arch and one of them announced, "We want to get married!"

I didn't get a good look at them as they ran up, because their backs were to us, but that voice sounded familiar too.

"Gladly my sons!" The devil grinned. The young men turned towards each other clasping hands and I got the shock of my life. Scott did too, because he nearly yanked my arm out of the socket to get my attention: It was Devon!

Raising his arms the devil said, "I wed you in unholy matrimony!" We didn't have a chance to react as Devon leaned towards the other guy to kiss when the lights went out again.

"What has this mockery of marriage wrought? Let us see. Follow me." Our guide commanded.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" Scott whispered to me. Thinking the same thing I just shrugged my shoulders. I was grinding my teeth in agitation.

The next room was a hospital room. They must have moved pretty quickly, because Devon was lying in a hospital bed and the other boy was standing at the back of the room.

"What is happening to me?" Devon moaned.

"You are dying of AIDS son," the woman standing with a man at his bedside said. I assumed they were supposed to be his parents. "Repent son and accept Jesus Christ into your heart before it is too late."

Devon reached out to the other boy. "You told me you loved me!" he shouted.

"Pray with us son, before it is too late."

"It is already too late." Devon went limp.

"No!" the woman screamed.

"No!" the other boy screamed before taking out a handgun and shooting himself in the head.

The gun shot made both of us jump and with the way the guy fell to the ground it seemed very realistic.

"Oh, no! I don't think so! I've had enough of this shit!" Jasmine stepped over the rope barrier separating us from the scene.

"You can't do that!" the masked guide shouted.

"Watch me bitch."

"Jasmine, maybe we should just go," Scott pleaded. Devon had remained motionless until Scott spoke at which point his eyes flew open. When he saw us I watched his mouth form the words "Oh, fuck." I wanted to ask him "What the fuck is going on?" I held my tongue. Jasmine was creating enough trouble as it was.

Within moments two well muscled men in black t-shirts that were too small for their burly builds informed us that we had to leave immediately.

"Or what, bitch? You gonna fag bash the tranny? The news would just love that story." Jasmine had her hands on her narrow hips, taunting the security guards. I held on to Scott, but my attention kept darting between Devon, Jasmine, Scott and the guards. Devon, Jasmine, Scott. Devon and Jasmine. Devon and Scott. The security guards.

"I'm afraid you’re trespassing now and you will have to leave." The red devil minister had entered from the room behind and when I turned around I recognized him. The pastor from Devon's church that we had encountered at Starbucks. I saw him zero in on my face. It was my turn to mouth the words "Oh, fuck." I involuntarily looked over towards Devon. The devil followed my gaze.

Devon literally fell out of the bed and he stumbled through a door at the back of the room.

Shit, this is fucked up, I thought.

"We will refund your money, but you have to leave." the devil said.

"This is not over, bitch!" Jasmine said and with a snap of her fingers.

Parading past the security guards she dragged one of her long painted nails across the stretched shirt of one of them saying as she passed, "You’re kind of cute; too bad you have a one inch cock." The guys face turned red and Scott snorted as he struggled to keep from laughing. I did not feel like laughing.

Once we were outside Jasmine gathered her group about her and started to make noise about picketing the "Hell House." I decided it was better to just slip away. Scott's hand was still in mine, so he didn't have any choice but to follow me.

I didn't know where I was going, but I was not staying there.

We walked in silence. There were too many things going on in my head. I didn't know if I should be angry, sad or something else.

"Okay, that was seriously fucked up," Scott finally said.

I realized we were still holding hands as we walked down the street. I wanted to let go, but I couldn't without it feeling awkward. "Yeah," I mumbled.

"I can't believe he was in there and doing that. It is wrong in just so many ways. I don't think I can ever look at him again." Scott's voice was rising and he was painfully squeezing my hand.

"Yeah," I mumbled again. Could I, or should I break off my friendship with Devon? What about Dani? Did she know what he was doing?

We suddenly stopped walking and I looked at Scott. "Shit, I'm sorry," he said.

"Sorry?"

"Yeah, this our first official date and I don't think this what either of us envisioned." He was looking at me and I could tell he was more than a little upset by the way he chewed on his lower lip. "I'm sorry about letting Jasmine drag us in there. I'm sorry that . . ."

"Well, this will be quite the tale we can tell when years from now people ask us about our first date." I had to say something to bring back that smile.

"When we are old, bald and toothless?" he asked with a smirk.

"You might be bald, but I plan on being silver haired." When he smiles, I smile.

"But still toothless," he said.

"And wrinkled," I told him.

He seemed to think about it for a moment before he got a big smile and just said, "Okay."

We didn't say anything more as we wandered along the streets. When we came to an ice cream shop that was still open, by mutual unspoken agreement we stepped through its door.

Once again I was presented with the fact that things are a little bit different here. We both passed on the roasted beet ice cream. I was going to stay safe with the vanilla, but Scott finally persuaded me to have the malted milk chocolate while he had the pistachio. We were able to avoid talking or even thinking about the haunted house for the rest of the evening until I dropped Scott off at his house.

I ignored my phone when it gave the tell tale buzz of a text message, several times.

We sat in the car. I don't think either one of us knew how to end the date and of course we didn't really want it to end either.

"So," he ventured.

"So," I said, "I hope you had a good time, even though it was not exactly how I, or rather my grandmother planned it."

"I had the best time," he said.

"Really?" I asked.

"Really." He was smiling.

"Okay." What now?

"I just hope we figure out what was going on with Devon." He was not smiling.

I looked down at my hands where they lay in my lap. "Yeah," I mumbled.

Scott gently took hold of my face, turned it towards his and brought our lips together for one of our most chaste, but passionate kisses ever. I even let out a slight, involuntary moan. He pulled away with a smile on his lips.

"I better get inside before my father comes out to see why the windows are all steamy," he said opening the door. "See you soon." .

"Yeah," I said, smiling.

I watched him walk to the door and we waved to each other before he disappeared inside. I drove away with the smile still on my face and the taste of pistachio ice cream on my lips.

Lying alone in bed later I avoided looking at the messages on my phone, instead I stared at the ceiling. This was one of the few times in my life when I have not been able to just turn everything off and fall asleep.

I was not startled when I heard the rapping on the garden door. I debated briefly with myself before opening the door to Devon. A light rain was falling and Devon was damp and little dirty from his trek through the garden. He wore a Kelly green jacket over his typical peach polo and khakis.

"Hi," he said, not meeting my eyes.

"We have to stop meeting like this," I told him.

"You weren't answering your phone."

"Yeah, I know."

"You weren't supposed to see that."

"I figured. That why you haven't been around?" We stood talking in the door way. I leaned against the door jam; unconsciously my arms were folded across my chest. Devon’s hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket.

"Pretty much. We do it every year, but this is the first time the church has it downtown." Devon was looking at some undefined space between us.

"Were you ever going to tell us?"

"I would have preferred not to." I move to close the door. "Wait! I am so sorry. It makes me sick to my stomach to do it. It really does."

"Then why do you do it?"

"You don't understand. I don't have any choice. My family, my dad, the church . . . it's just fucked up."

"You know you don't talk much like a bible thumper."

"Fuck," he said quietly, "yeah, I suppose not. I'm not, but what am I going to do? He's my dad."

"I'm sorry too. I just thought I found a real friend I guess . . . and now," I tried to explain. "You have no idea of the places I lived, that crap that I've seen . . . been through." I thought of the hotel scene at the Hell House. "It's been like a dream here. That was like the alarm going off and I was waking up back in a hotel in Texas."

"Fuck, dude I am so sorry. This is just something I wanted to keep a secret. I didn't want to upset you . . . or Scott." Devon was finally looking at my face.

"I never thought you would use my own life against me or anyone else," my voice was rising.

Devon's eye grew wide. "I don't know what you mean," he stammered.

"Bull, that whole scene in the hotel room," I was almost shouting

"I don't know what you're talking about. We get a script from a church in Florida."

I was ready to say bullshit again when I had to stop and think. I hadn’t told Devon or even Scott how my mother died. Had I?

"Shit," I said and it was my turn to look at the floor.

"Dude, you never told me how your mom died. I am super sorry. I wish I could make it up to you." Devon reached out to put a hand on my shoulder, but he hesitated, never making contact.

"Shit, I'm sorry too. If Scott's friend hadn't dragged us in there it would have remained a secret. I guess you're not a homophobic bigot after all."

"Far from it dude." A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"I knew that, I guess. I was just shocked by the whole thing. You don't have a mean bone in your body, which is kind of problem. You keep trying to make everyone happy."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"It is a good way to make yourself miserable."

"I'm sorry about all of this. I will make it up to you. Anything you want." Devon's hand landed on my shoulder slid down my arm. I realized that I was standing there in nothing but a pair of SpongeBob boxers.

"Scott," I blurted.

"Huh?" He withdrew his hand.

"You are going to have to explain it to Scott and apologize to him. He was really pissed off."

"Oh, yeah." A slight blush colored his cheeks. "Yeah, I'll do that first chance I get. It's just, you know, I can't be seen . . . you know."

"Yeah, I know. I'll talk to Dani and arrange something."

"Okay, cool. I better get going," he said.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh, I'm totally sober. Imagine that?" He turned down the dark garden path.

I hope so, I thought to myself.

 

We avoided talking about the Hell House or Devon for the rest of the weekend. When somebody asked us about our date we told them about The Roxy and ice cream and what a great time we had. Fortunately my grandmother did not seem disappointed about our change of restaurant and she even promised to take us to The Roxy for breakfast sometime. I made sure to tell her that her pancakes were better.

On Monday I knew I had to talk to Dani and make arrangements for Devon to meet up with Scott. I had not yet told him about Devon's midnight visit.

We were joined by Dani shortly after we sat at our usual table for lunch.

"Not hanging out with Devon today?" Scott could not keep the derision from his voice.

"Okay, Scott I know what happened Friday night and I know Devon is sorry," Dani said.

"Sorry his true colors were exposed?" Scott shot back.

"Scott," I pleaded.

"No! Not after that debacle of a first date we had and he doesn't even have the decency to show his face or even call!"

"He did. He explained everything to Jay," she said.

"He did what? When did this happen?" Scott looked at me.

"You haven't told him?" Dani looked at me too.

"Not yet," I replied. "Later that night," I mumbled.

"What?!" Scott almost shouted.

"Yes. He tried texting me and calling me right after we left the haunted house, but I ignored him. I was . . . I just wanted the rest of the night to be, you know, special."

"But you talked to him later that night?" Scott asked.

"Um, yeah. He kind of showed up at my door."

"He showed up at your door? In the middle of the night?" I did not like the almost hysterical tone that Scott's voice was taking on.

"Yeah, but it's not like it's the first time." I realized my mistake as soon as I opened my mouth.

"Not the first time?" both Scott and Dani said in unison.

"Fuck," I barely said under my breath.

"No, fuck you!" Scott said and tipped his tray of lasagna and salad into my lap before he stormed off.

I just sat there with tomato sauce and salad dressing seeping into my jeans.

"Shit Jay. What just happened?" Dani came around the table to start cleaning up the mess, because I was not making any move to do so on my own.

"I fucked up," I said.

"No, I think Devon fucked up." She sat next to me and handed me napkins to sop up the mess in my crotch. "So tell me about these midnight visits of Devon's."

I sighed. "There was only one other, right after the confrontation with his dad. He was drunk and that was when he told me he wouldn't be able to hang out much anymore."

"Drunk, huh?"

"Yeah, I made him stay and sleep it off."

"I wish he would stop trying to please everyone."

"That's what I told him."

We sat in silence. I was trying not to think about anything and everything.

"What about Scott now?" Dani asked.

"Shit . . . Scott. I don't know. I don't want to think about it. I probably totally fucked that up." I told myself that I would not start crying.

"I think I might know how to take care of things," she said.

I just nodded.

I didn't see Scott the rest of the day and I ignored the occasional rude comment about the stains on the front of my jeans. He apparently skipped his afternoon classes. The day passed in a fog. It was equally disconcerting and a relief not to see Scott in any classes and pretend that everything was fine.

When I got home I went straight to my room and closed the door. My grandmother came by once and knocked to say dinner was ready. I told her I wasn't hungry. She didn't ask again.

I spent the evening drifting in out of a restless nap and staring at the painting on the wall opposite of the bed. It was a moody painting of tornados passing through a desolate landscape. I was half-dreaming of Dorothy being scooped up in a tornado from her Kansas farm when a rapping sound that was becoming all too familiar broke through my depression.

"Fuck! Go away Devon!" I shouted and rolled over so my back was to the door.

The rapping continued, but I kept ignoring it. When it finally stopped I glanced over my shoulder at the window to see if he was gone. The retreating figure was far too short and slender to be Devon. I jumped for the door and yanked it open. Scott turned with a start.

I don't think either one of us knew what to say. The aroma of pine, moist earth and an unfamiliar flower wafted in from the garden.

"Um, I'm sorry," I finally said.

"No, I'm sorry," he said. "Can I come in?"

"Oh yeah, sure." I stepped out of the way and Scott walked into the room, staring at it as if it was the first time he had seen it.

"So this is how Devon showed up?

"Yeah. How did you know?"

"He told me."

"You talked to Devon?"

"Yeah. Well, first I talked to Vanessa, or rather she talked to me while she made me listen."

"Uh-oh."

"Yeah, uh-oh. Anyway, after she reamed me a new one and not in good way," he tried his smirk on, "she brought Devon in."

"And?"

"And . . . why does he have to be such a fucking nice guy? He explained everything. I don't like it and I think he should do something about that fucked up church and his dad, but I don't know what. And I want to be angry at him, but Vanessa won't let me and I can't anyway, so I am going to give him some slack."

"That's good." We were standing a few feet apart and I had shoved my hands in my pockets. I had never bothered to change out of my lunch stained clothes.

"I'm really sorry about how I acted at lunch. For good or bad, you know I can be kind of . . ."

"Impulsive," I finished for him.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry for not telling you about Devon earlier," I said.

"I realize you were just looking for the right time. Even my therapist, who says honesty is the best policy, says sometimes it takes a while to know when to say something."

"I could have told you sooner, but I did make Devon promise to talk to you."

"He told me that you did. I just acted without thinking."

"We're good then?" I asked.

"I really hope so." His voice shook.

"Good, because I really want to hold you right now." I couldn't keep the tremor out of my voice.

"Oh, thank god," Scot said and we fell into each other arms. We held each other so tightly we were lucky neither one of us cracked a rib.

Scott relinquished his crushing embrace first, but only enough to allow him to plant a sweet kiss on my lips.

"I better be getting home. I have a strict curfew you know," he said. I really didn't want him to go.

"Did you need a ride? How did you get up here anyway?" I knew the rare bus up here ended in early evening.

"Vanessa is waiting for me at the bottom of the garden."

"Oh." I hoped I would have to drive him home, but then I would have had to explain his presence to my grandmother.

"But I will see you at school tomorrow. I will need you to fill me on the classes I skipped."

"Okay."

With a lingering kiss he finally left, threading his way along the garden path to the gate.

I lay back down on my bed to stare at the painting some more. It seemed like a desolate painting with no hope in it. It made me think of the hotel room I used to live in with my mother and how by coincidence it was portrayed in the Hell House. I looked around at the room I was in now with its large comfortable bed and dresser full of clothes. It still worried me that this was all a dream to tease me before dumping me back into a world of scrounging for food behind restaurants. If I had to leave, could I?

I wondered if I could ask my grandmother to move the painting.