Forever for a Year(71)

*

My mom eventually stopped crying and apologized one thousand times. You could tell she was still scared, like terrified, but also that she wasn’t anti-gay or anything. Just anti her son having to endure anti-gay people. But Heath was really smart and explained that the world was different than when she was his age. He said that every day someone openhearted was born to replace someone closed-minded who died. (My brother should be a writer, don’t you think?)

Later, after my mom had gone to work and Heath had left to meet some friends, I asked my dad how long he had known Heath was gay.

“Probably since he was eight or so.”

“How could you tell?” I asked.

“If you pay attention, almost everyone will tell you who they are without saying a word. And it’s your job, as their parent or sister or friend, to embrace whoever that person wants to be,” he said. My dad did lecture too much, but he was also brilliant, so I didn’t really mind at a moment like this.





56

Trevor puts it closer and closer

After we got home from my grandmother’s Christmas night, Carolina came over. She said hello to my parents and good night to Lily and then we went into the basement.

“Guess what?” she said. “I think we should go on a double date with Art and Bryan.”

“I don’t think they’re a couple,” I said.

“Everyone says they’re a couple. It doesn’t even matter. I just think we should be supportive of the gay community.”

“Okay.” She wasn’t making a whole lot of sense.

“Guess what else?”

“What?”

“My brother’s gay,” she said.

“That’s cool,” I said. What else should I say? I had gay friends back in California. It wasn’t a big deal. But I guess it was a bigger deal here.

“I mean, I just found out.”

“Oh. How do you feel?”

“Good. I’m really happy for him.”

“So you’re happy for him for being who he is?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Cool. I’m happy for you that you are who you are, then.” I tickled her just because.

“I’m serious, Trevor.”

“I am too.”

“I don’t want anyone to pretend they aren’t themselves.”

“Me either.”

“So if you were gay, I would totally still love you,” she said.

“Are you being serious?”

“I’m just saying, I love you for whoever you are.”

“I like girls, Carolina. Well, one girl. See?” And I grabbed her hand and put it on my penis. Which was hard. It almost always was when we went into the basement. I wasn’t even embarrassed about it anymore.

But Carolina didn’t keep her hand there. She pulled it back and got sad. “Trevor, I want you to know everything about me.”

Oh, crap. Was she about to tell me she liked girls? No. No … right? No. But … what?

She said, “My parents almost got divorced. My dad cheated on my mom. They’re better now. They’re more in love than ever. But I want you to know that I don’t come from this perfect family. My brother’s perfect. I’m not saying we’re not perfect because he’s gay. I’m saying we’re not perfect because my dad and mom almost got divorced.”

I didn’t know what to say. I should have told her about my mom. About her trying to kill herself. But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t say it. Parents got divorced all the time. Who cares? But someone trying to kill herself was so much worse. So much harder to understand.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” she asked.

“I don’t think anyone is perfect, Carolina. Besides you.” I tried to smile.

“So you don’t think I’m damaged now because of my parents?”

“I think you are even more awesome because you are who you are despite their crap,” I said.

Carolina hugged me, then kept her head against my chest. Then she said, “So you would tell me anything I don’t know about you, right?”

Crap. “I will,” I said, which didn’t feel like such a lie because “I will” could mean I would tell her about future stuff but also about past stuff in the future.

*

Carolina and I spent almost every night of Christmas break together. We studied a little for the finals that would happen a couple weeks later, but mostly we watched movies and got naked and did all sorts of sex stuff besides actual sex. I went and kissed her down there, which she liked and moaned and giggled. But she didn’t orgasm. It drove me nuts that I couldn’t make Carolina orgasm. I mean, I want to be a good boyfriend. I want to be able to make her happy! She said she was. She said how good she felt. She repeated how the internet said it was rare for girls to come with boys at first. But that didn’t make me feel any better. It just made me feel like I wasn’t even a unique failure, just an average one.

But everything Carolina did for me was amazing. She started keeping lotion in her purse, which was a lot better than just her dry hand. And she would kiss it if I asked. (I didn’t ask every night or else she would think I was selfish.) We also tried a bunch of other stuff, like putting me between her breasts (which were getting bigger I think) and between her butt cheeks. (Not in her butt. But sliding … Forget it.) It was all good. But just for something different. Her mouth was still the best. But even then, I wished I could kiss her while she was kissing it. Which I supposed was why people had sex. We were going to wait. But then we started putting “me” near “her.” Just touching. Except we never put it in. Never. And we wouldn’t talk about it either. I promised I was going to talk about it. But I didn’t. It was too scary to talk about. So we just kept getting closer and closer and I didn’t know which one of us was going to stop when the next step closer was actual sex.