Gone, Gone, Gone(43)

I have to find my animals. I have to find them. Every single one. A lady calls who found a cat a while ago and just saw one of my posters and thinks it might be Zebra. She sends me a picture.

Sometimes I believe in angels.

One cat.

One rabbit.

A guinea pig.

Slowly, they’re still trickling home. But I know there’s going to be a day when the trickle will stop

and then no more animals.

But until then.

Craig—

Hope you’re doing SWELL. Can we bring “swell” back?

Lio



This is a stupid email and it’s stupid. And I’m stupid.

And stupid Lio is stupid, too. And his hot friend. Well, I haven’t seen him, but Lio doesn’t seem the type to make friends with ugly people. I’m going to tell myself that Lio is really shallow. Shallow shallow Lio.

Yeah. Sure.

Lio’s tragic flaw isn’t that he’s shallow, it’s that he’s . . .

God, I don’t know.

I need to stop acting like I know the boy.

It’s just a few IMs and a kiss.

His tragic flaw is that he is a walking tragedy, and his smile makes me feel alive.

Friday morning, another guy dies pumping gas. Mom comes home that night and says she didn’t remember putting gas in the car, but the tank was full. Todd doesn’t make eye contact, but she hugs him hard, then smacks him and tells him he’s stupid. I feel like an intruder.

Mansfield has a girlfriend. Her name is Chelsea. Chelsea and Mansfield. He talks about her through our entire karate class, and between kicks, he’s telling me how they got to third base in the back of the bus under the cover of his ski jacket.

“It was so hot,” he says. “Hot and wet.”

I say, “I’m surprised you even ride buses.” I try not to sound jealous that he’s still going to school. “Are the windows made of bulletproof glass?”

“Ha ha ha. Seriously, you have no idea what it’s like. It’s like . . . Christmas.”

“Third base is Christmas?”

“* is Christmas.”

Ew. I hate that word. Like girls have animals in their pants or something. I have no desire to know what girls have in their pants but I do really hope none of it is alive, and I don’t think even newborn kittens in a girl’s pants could make me go down there. This is so gross. Why am I still thinking about this? I hate karate.

Afterward, when I’m safely in my mom’s car where no bullets can ever get me, Mom pulls up at our house and says, “Is that Lio?”

Yes, that’s Lio. He’s standing at my door, shaking a little, looking around nervously. I give him a quick hug, and his heart’s beating so fast. “You okay?”

He nods.

“Did our car scare you?”

He nods again.

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

I scared him.

What is he doing here?

He says, softly, “Jasper had to drop me off. She couldn’t wait.”

“Oh, um, okay.” I let him into the house. “Here. I’ll get you something to drink.”


Now that he’s inside, he’s calming down. He takes off his jacket, and his skin is that plain ghost white, his collar too high to show the scar on his chest, and his skin is probably fifteen shades lighter than mine, and I know there are a shitload of people in the world with lighter skin than mine and it’s really nothing I’m generally excited about or anything, but his feels sort of like a miracle right now, I can’t explain it. It’s just that every single thing about him is a miracle.

And something just broke open inside of me, seeing him here, at my table, in his jacket in his skin in my house in my head exactly how I pictured him, making me feel alive even though he isn’t smiling, exactly as gorgeous as I remembered he was, and he is here he came back, and my car scared him but I didn’t.

I did not scare him away, I wasn’t too crazy or too needy and he came back.

And he starts to say, “I left my hat here,” but he has to say the last few words against my mouth because I cannot believe how badly I have to kiss him. I’m kissing him in the kitchen in front of my mom. I’m such an idiot.

But it feels right.

It’s not our first kiss, and it’s not our first good kiss, but it’s the first one that feels right.

And we keep going until Mom clears her throat.

We’re in my basement again. We’re having the same talk, but different, because this time Lio is talking too.

He says, “I’ve been talking to Jack all day. He says I’d be crazy not to fight for you. Gloves are off.”

I’m saying, “I really like you. I’m still in love with Cody.”

“I know you’re still in love with Cody.”

“I’m not sure how or when that’s ever going to stop.”

“Okay.”

“But this is my life and, who knows, we could get shot any minute.”

Lio nods. “Or get cancer.”

“Or get cancer. Except not you.” And I put my arms all the way around him. I don’t love him because he’s little anymore. I love him including he’s little.

Fuck, I didn’t mean to say love.

It wasn’t out loud, but I get the feeling he heard it anyway.