As They Say - (Revised) - 37. Entry 48 & 49

18th June 1991:

I saw it. The fanny, the muff, a pussy, the vag.

I saw it. Right, so just calm down, I know it's not a big deal, but it's my first time to see one visually. Mind you, I didn't actually see one up close and personal, but from a magazine. I knew these sorts of things existed, but I never even saw one… well, until today, that is.

I went around to Carl's after lunch; he had a… how should I say, a unique magazine? His dad was too busy working in the fields, and his mam had to step out for a little while.

So, Carl said, "Here, Adam, I have something new to show you."

There I was wondering what in the world Carl could show me. I followed him upstairs to his bedroom, and I parked at the end of his bed. Carl then went over to his desk, felt up the underside of the drawer compartment and voila.

Behold, a pornographic magazine appeared.

Carl clutched it in his hands and sat down beside me.

It seemed like Carl was hesitant to show me at first, but he let me in on his secret. The way he was holding it, too, was like it was a proud achievement. I never saw Carl so exuberant, so jittery and sheepish all at the same time. Now that I think of it, I can understand why.

Now, the odd notion of what Carl uses that magazine for has just popped into my head. How he'd look desperately over the pictures, almost drooling on them, then he'd reach down subconsciously: fondled himself until he got hard. I'm sure you know the rest, but that's not the ironic part about it. I was genuinely interested in the pictures. I'm not sure what that meant, but when I saw boobies and the hairiest Grand Canyon I’ll ever want to see with my young eyes, I could feel the burn of intensity from keenly hovering over the nudes, savouring every contour on the model’s body.

Well… yep, that's that.

My eyes will never be the same ever again. I have witnessed the bare flesh of a naked woman, and for some odd reason, I approve of it.

Anyhow, later,

Adam

***

19th June 1991:

I keep subconsciously getting up from my desk and checking the landing area. I keep thinking that one of my folks will come in and sit down and give me the talk. How they'll say I'm confused, or it's a phase.

Perhaps it is so, but shouldn’t that be for me to decide?

Not that I know entirely what I'm doing, regardless if Mam or Dad is involved.

After being out with Ross, I came home, and my diary was on my desk of all places. Why there, of all places it could have been? It seemed that my Mam might have read it or something, then she figured that it was sensitive and left it out on display because she possibly read too much.

Oh god, what if my Mam read what I wrote?

Everything about Ross is in this diary… To make it worse, I'm still writing to you. Sigh… I can’t decide what is worse now… the fact that I always refer to you as if YOU were a person or the fact that I'm writing in you after a breach of privacy.

You think I'd be a little bit more cautious before I decided to write a diary entry tonight. Maybe even a bit worried that my Mam knows all my secrets since I started this book.

Oh God, what, what if?

She was... No, she can't; of course not, she can't.

What if she read all my diaries, and this is the first time she put the journal back on the desk?

I should go outside and burn all the diaries that I have in my possession; that way, she has no evidence to back it up if the word does get to my Dad. Though maybe this is all just in my head, possibly I’m panicking for no reason, but still, it's a terrifying notion to comprehend.

Not to mention earlier, I had an awkward encounter with my Mam. It wasn't intentional on Mam's behalf. Well, I don't think it was anyway. But the way she phrased the statement, it felt like she was hinting at something. Then again, that could be my imagination running rampant still.

Mam was like, "I see you and Ross are getting on very well these days."

At first, I thought nothing of it; I just shrugged and acknowledged that Ross is a great person. Secretly, between you and me, we both know that he is more than a good person.

I said, "Yeah, I guess so."

I reflected a moment before continuing and then proceeded, "We have some things in common, and he taught me how to play cards properly. If Carl were teaching me how to do it, he would've gone to town on me. When Carl and I have played cards, he always seems to be the one to say, hey, this is how it has to be. Though Ross, it feels different— friendlier or something.”

On top of that, I was trying to make it sound that Ross was like Carl. And more importantly, that nothing was going on between us. The idea crossed my mind when Mam hinted that my friendship was 'special' with Ross. Given that she had also put my journal on my desk after cleaning my room, I was exceptionally sceptical. I subconsciously put two and two together without really delving deeper into the situation. I still don't know whether she read my journal. So, I guess that's something I have to feel grateful for at the moment.

Mam sat quietly drinking tea, and then she finally uttered, "That's nice; it seems like you guys are really good together."

That's when I gave her a leering expression. The phrasing of that last statement made me feel uneasy to the point that I was convinced that she had read my journal. Though she wasn't making a big deal out of it all the same. Of all the ways Mam could phrase it, why did she have to express it like that? It sounds like something you'd say to a couple.

'You guys are perfect together.'

Yeah, that's about right. I'd imagine that's what I'd say to my sister, if I ever had a sister. I would embarrass her by saying something like that when she had a boyfriend.

Mam didn't harp on about it; she just acknowledged that our friendship was blossoming in some way. You could say it is comforting to know that she notices who I'm taking an interest in, but on second thought, it's worrisome.

Now let's get away from the news of mothers, in general. I got some information about Ross. Well, I’m getting there, but first, I want to talk about the whole idea of setting up a date with Ross. After all, he did go out of his way to find a radio tower for us to climb up, which, admittedly, I'm confident I'll never scale it again. With that talk aside, I decided to start scouring the area for places I could bring Ross.

Before lunch today, I asked my Dad to drive me into Killarney, and he did, surprisingly. I didn't know what I had set out to do. I was more on an adventure to see what I could do with Ross to have options. I ended up going into the tourism office, which I found weird considering I live 15 minutes up the road. I was browsing through some of the pamphlets, leaflets, and booklets on what was on offer. Most of the options were the Ring of Kerry, though I concluded that I did not have enough time or the resources to bring Ross on a tour of the Ring of Kerry. It would have to be a day out sort of thing. Dad asked once or twice what we were doing there, and I just tried to shrug him off. I think he caught on after a while because he stopped asking questions. Dad started robotically picking up tourist locations that sparked an interest, and he proposed them to me.

An assistant came by; she was very friendly, pretty too. She introduced herself as Rebecca, and if I needed any help at all, she was there if I needed her. When I spoke, she just smiled, and she got to talking to us because she could hear our Irish accent. Rebecca felt alienated because everybody else in the entire office was foreign. I didn't feel so much like a space invader and considering this is my local shindig, Rebecca was grateful to have a local.

Eventually, Rebecca started talking about places she visited that most Irish people probably don't even know about. She recommended a place to Dad, and Dad being the enthusiast he is, was raring to see this place that Rebecca had suggested.

Dad dragged on about how he never came across this place all the way home in the car. It was right under our noses, and Dad didn't even know about it. I think it is ironic because Dad knows a lot of places. The attraction Rebecca suggested was a dolphin marina, but I have no idea why that seemed like fun. While I think of it, Ross likes high areas. There is only one place in County Kerry that is as high as anything else. Carrauntoohil.

Yep, it's the highest point in Southwest Ireland... actually, all of Ireland. You're supposed to be able to see land for thousands of kilometres at the top.

Well... so I heard.

I'd have to ask my Mam and Dad. Then, of course, get an escort if I wanted to go. Then again, I don't think that's precisely the worst-case scenario. Maybe I can get my Mam on board, then bring Ross with me to the mountains. I think Ross would love it there, but then again, there's also the attraction spot at Ladies View. If I want to go to one of those, I'll need to get a lift because I'll probably get us killed cycling to one of those far off places.

If Ross wants high... I'll give him high; I'll bring him the mountains.

When I got back from town, I was eager and excited. I've no idea why I was so driven, but I felt good about planning something for both of us. Even though I have nothing set in stone, I can't help but feel a sense of pride for beginning to look in the right direction.

Enough rambling; when I got back, Ross was sitting at my kitchen table. Evidently, Ross decided to wait as my Mam said we'd be back shortly. I'm glad Ross waited; I've no idea how long he waited for me; still, I'm so happy he did. I sat down at the table with a rush of excitement and curiosity. Eagerness took hold of me, and I held onto it like a child in a fairground with a balloon in high wind. I was supposed to surprise Ross with this news, but I just blurted out everything I learned. Wanting so desperately to tell someone, the knowledge flooded out. Ross... he just smiled and bashfully nodded his head as my Mam looked on.

I sheepishly confessed about all these ridiculous notions that the two of us could embark on. When I noticed, my Mam gave me a questioning gaze and I slowed down.

The expression on Mam's face was like, ‘Do you expect us to drive you around all these lovely places? Did you forget that cars don't run on water?'

The expression was just like... my son has a wild imagination. But then again, I can have a wild imagination at times. I feel like I'm the only one who considers any of this weird stuff. I wonder what the inside of a filmmaker’s brain looks like; they dream up entire worlds inside their head. So mine can't be all that much different... can it?

In the way, how Ross endured my little rambling made me feel so special to have someone willing to listen to me. The guys adapted to me, but nothing that I ever spoke about ever seemed serious. It's always about games or movies or what's happening in the cinema. However, with Ross, anything I say is taken on board without him having to listen, really. I have come to understand that Ross is a listener more than he is a talker. He welcomes everything I have to say— anything anybody has to say.

Yet, Ross speaks so much from saying nothing at all. I don't know how he does it, but it just seems that way. I'm not weird or crazy here when I say this, but I think that's what I like about him. Ross doesn't go all out to be someone else; he's comfortable with being the quiet boy, and I love that.

I like it a lot.

Afterwards, we just hung out. And it was lovely. Ross has started teaching me how to play liars dice with these cubes he found. I felt a bit weird, but I was like, 'okay.' Ross seems to know his way around systems. Ross is quick on the drawer, and he picks up on habits or routine interactions that happen consistently. He usually takes that into account and uses it to his advantage.

I've learned that Ross is smart, a lot smarter than I am. The way Ross handles his intelligence is unique. You could say people who are the quietest have the loudest minds. In Ross's case, I suppose that could be true.

About halfway through our demonstration, I got up to pee. I left the room, and Ross put on my R.E.M CD in the background on a very low volume when I came back. Weirdly, the atmosphere when we got to the song “It's Not The End Of The World As We know It” was nice. The two of us just sat there and mumbled the chorus between us as we played. It's a strange combination, but I hella loved it. He's changing me somehow; I'm comfortable. I don't know, but I like myself when I'm with Ross.

I should get some sleep. It's late.

Night,

Adam