Gone, Gone, Gone(26)

I had one therapist who was convinced all my problems came from feeling my brother even though he isn’t here. Phantom pain. Like losing a limb.

I gave that some thought and came to the reluctant conclusion that it was definitely bullshit. I don’t feel Theodore. I don’t remember how eight years old felt. Most of the time I’m grateful for that.

There’s this bird outside my window. It’s so loud. I wish someone would shoot it. Ha.

So this is dumb, but every Saturday I end up considering calling Mom. I hate talking on the phone, and I’d probably end up just breathing loudly like a creeper. I don’t know her number, either. I’d have to ask Dad. That would be horrible. So I never call, but I always think about it.

I’m thinking about it right now when my cell phone rings. Who the f*ck would call me? I check the screen, but it’s not Craig.

Fuck Alexander Graham Bell. I hate being forced to talk.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Lio, this is Amelia.”

Amelia. It could be worse, easily. She’s from school. She’s definitely into me. She’s also really good at statistics and has a knack for witty IMs, so I keep her. But if she thinks our relationship has progressed to phone calls, I feel bad for leading her on.

I say, “Hey.”

She says, “So sorry for cold-calling, and ohmyGod this is so lame but my dad realized our country club—I know, I totally wouldn’t blame you if you hung up now—closes like tomorrow or the next day and we still have all these kind of pseudo-free dinners still available under our membership. If we don’t use them, the money kind of goes to waste.”

She leaves a space here for me to say something.

“So, anyway,” she continues. “My parents can’t go tonight, so they told me, ‘Amelia, why don’t you invite someone from school,’ so I was wondering if you’d like to go with me?”

I say, “Oh.”

There are a lot of reasons I should say no to her. The fact that I’m gay is probably the first reason, but it’s not the only one by any stretch. There’s the fact that I’m in love with someone else, unavailable though he may be. Or that making small talk over small portions isn’t exactly my thing.

So, I should say no, but apparently my no thanks I’m fine disease doesn’t apply here. I say, “Let me ask my dad, okay?”

That is the worst thing I’ve ever said. I essentially just cut off my penis.

I say, “We might have plans. I can get out of them.” I realize I’m trying to compensate for what I said about asking Dad for permission. I’m trying to get her to think I might be cool. Way to go. Woo back the straight girl. Jesus, I can’t win.

“Oh, sure,” she says. “Just call me back?”

“Yeah. Um, I’ll IM you.” I hang up because I sound like a jackass and that shit needs to end.

Okay, Dad is going to tell me what to do. Even though I haven’t come out to my family, I’m pretty sure there’s an unspoken understanding that I’m gay ever since I sang “Man, I Feel Like a Woman” in my mother’s high heels, completely bald, for one of our family talent shows.

I don’t remember this, but the pictures are pretty fabulous.

I step into the kitchen. “Dad?”

“He’s napping,” Jasper says. Shit, when did they get home? The shoes Michelle’s wearing must be new, because she’s studying the reflection of her feet on the oven.

“I don’t know that they’re exactly right,” she says, and then she looks up at me. “What’s up? You look like shit.”

Wow thanks. “I just . . . I have something I need to ask him, okay?”

“Okay,” Michelle says. “God. You don’t have to verbally abuse us.”

Jasper says, “Leave him alone. Can I help, Li?” She gives me a hug. “Is everything okay?”

Maybe I really do look like shit. I say, “This girl invited me to dinner. I don’t know what to say.”

My sisters light up like candles. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God!” Jasper spins me. “Oh, my God, Lio, your first date! This is bigger than your bar mitzvah!”

I hope someone gives me money and cufflinks for this.

“What are you going to wear?” Michelle asks me. “Please tell me you are not going to wear a T-shirt. Let’s not wear anything with words on it, Lio, okay?” She’s touching me all over like she’s trying to clean me off. “And something besides black? You must have colors in your closet somewhere. You have some red and pink, don’t you? If we choose one to accent the black . . .”

Oh, God. They think I’m straight.

I say, “I haven’t said yes yet . . .”

Jasper says, “Oh, Jesus, Lio, don’t play hard to get. Call her and tell her you’re coming. You don’t have to act so uptight just because you’re gay.”

Now I’m entirely confused.

“Go get ready!” Jasper says. “Call her! Get dressed! Just don’t kiss her at the end, that would be cruel. Unless you like her! Don’t limit yourself, Lio!”

“Remember, wear nothing with words!” Michelle calls after me. “And find a hat that isn’t falling apart. Don’t you dare show her your hair!”

I do not understand my life.