Confessions of a Bad Boy(44)

“Don’t make me dare you!”

Jessie beams me a smile and then disappears into the treehouse. I take a second to realize just how crazy this is, then start climbing. When I get to the top, I duck inside and we both spend a minute laughing goofily.

I sit up against the side, the same spot where I’d always sit when the three of us spent time in the treehouse, only now I have to keep my legs a little bent, and the plank behind me doesn’t seem quite so stable.

“You know, this whole thing is probably going to come crashing down with us inside it,” I say. “What is it, fifteen or twenty years old now?”

“Yeah, something like that. Fuck. That’s a long time. I didn’t think this would still be here.”

I gaze down at the wood, dense and strong as if fortified by memories.

“It’s not the things that change, it’s the things that stay the same which you notice as you get older.”

“Oh, very profound,” Jessie says sarcastically. I shrug, and something in her eyes softens.

We sit in the gentle peace of the treetop for a while, gazing out the windows at the horizons we knew so well, at each other, at the stillness of everything. Allowing the weird sensation of feeling out of time take over.

“I’m sorry, Nate.”

Jessie’s voice emerges from the quiet like wave lapping the beach, almost catching me off-guard.

“What? Why?”

She takes a moment before speaking.

“I used to judge you while we were growing up. For being the way you were.”

“What do you mean?”

“For the way you acted around girls, especially when you and Kyle got to high school and left me behind. I dunno. I thought you were being an *, the way you talked about it, and then when you guys left me behind again for college it was even worse. Especially since you seemed to have everything already – money, a big house, success.” She grips her knees and pulls them under her chin. “It’s only a lot later that I realized how tough it was for you just to get away from that house, everything you had to go through when you were little. It’s no wonder you turned out kinda f*cked up.” She grins to make the words sound less harsh, but I’d be lying if I said she hadn’t struck a nerve.

“I don’t need anyone’s sympathy.”

“I know. I’m just saying I understand.”

The words hang in the air for a while, seeming to get louder as they remain unaddressed. I wonder how much she’d understand if she knew the whole truth – that me being ‘kinda f*cked up’ included making video blogs about my sex life every week, posting them on the internet for the world to see, self-perpetuating my own gratifying debauchery with every entry. But suddenly all of that seems a million miles away, like it’s not even really me who’s been posting those vlogs, and I find myself talking from somewhere deep inside, without any of the usual ego or thoughtfulness.

“You asked me once why I said I’d never have kids. I’ll tell you. I don’t ever want there to be the slightest chance that I’ll cause as much pain as my father caused me.”

Jessie just nods, like she really does understand, and we let the calm seep into our souls once again.

“Hey,” she says eventually, “do you remember that time Kyle and I found you sleeping up here? You never told me what that was about.”

I smile bitterly.

“That was the night of my thirteenth birthday.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” I nod slowly. “That was a bad one. I mean, I knew my dad would make it all about him. But still…” I drop my head into my hand and rub my forehead roughly, as if I could somehow massage the memory away. “All I wanted that year was a new bike. Not anything flashy, either, just one that I hadn’t outgrown. I asked my dad about it every chance I got, left hints everywhere, drew pictures of bikes and put them up on my wall, on the fridge.

“And he actually listened. He actually bought me a bike! It was the first time I felt like he gave a shit, like I was more than just some annoying kid he wanted out of the house.”

“That’s good. Right?”

I look up at her and smile, then shake my head.

“The guests ended up playing with it, and at some point some drunk * rode it off the stairs into the foyer. The thing broke into three pieces. Absolutely f*cking ruined. Everyone laughed, of course. Except for me. And then they laughed at me for not getting the joke, for being so serious about a stupid bike. I got out of there, so upset and pissed off I wanted to hit someone. I wanted to run away for good, just get out of that place and never go back.” I look up at Jessie, her eyes glistening wetly. “But the only place I could think of coming to was here.”

“That’s awful, Nate.”

“The worst thing was that my dad told that story for years afterwards – he probably still does. He tells it to me even, as if I’m supposed to find it funny that one of the most meaningful things he ever did for me was destroyed before I even got it.”

Jessie looks down at her lap solemnly, before quickly raising her eyes again, confused.

“But you had a bike. I remember.”

I feel a slow smile spread involuntarily across my lips.

“Because of Kyle. The next day, when he found me here, I ended up ranting at him with tears streaming down my face. Telling him what happened, promising him I’d never go back home, that I’d kill my dad if I ever saw him again. He just ordered me to pick up the bike pieces, and then he went to the dump and – God knows how – but he found a frame. Then we built it again from scratch. And after that he never said a word about it to me again.”