Invincible Summer(29)

Every once in a while I’ll get these hints of what it means to be Gideon. I mean, I always think, Oh, poor Gideon, he doesn’t know what the rest of us are talking about, but it’s not all the time that I realize this isn’t the sad part. It’s not that it’s sad he can’t follow us. It is, but that’s not the issue. The real problem is that Gideon lives in a world where the only thing he can count on is that we’ll be asleep when we say we’ll be asleep.

It’s hitting me now, that I am not at all where anyone needs me to be right now. Gideon. Noah. Bella. Anyone.

O.K. I sign. My boy sleep. My boy sleep he says, and shows me the handshape for I love you, and I show it back, and sign same between the two of us. Literally, this means we’re equal.

I squeeze him and tuck him into his bed, kiss his sweaty little forehead. I rub his back until he falls asleep. No one loves back rubs like Gid.

I should go to bed. He’s trusting me. But I can’t. I feel like I can barely move, and that means I have to, right now. If I lie down, all my muscles are going to atrophy and I’m going to curl up like a bug in the sun. I can’t let that happen.

I can’t just stay in bed alone because someone thinks that’s where I’m supposed to be. I can’t stagnate this entire summer away, not for anyone. Even if it’s Gideon. He’s going to have to trust me on this one.

I feel like I should bring a coat with me, but it’s eighty degrees outside and I’m only going just across the street. I don’t even get to wait and angst at the doorway, Noah style, because Melinda opens the door as I’m walking up the steps.

I’ve seen him come up here a million times, but she always makes him wait. I’ve seen her watching him from the door of her kitchen.

“H-hi,” I say.

“H-hi.” She laughs. “Saw you on your way over. Here to discuss another essay?” “Not exactly.” I scuffle my feet. “Noah’s not here, anyway?”

“Apparently he’s in Rehobeth with friends. Thrilling for him, I’m sure.”

That sounds right. I can see Noah there in my head, crashing on someone’s couch, listening to the same ocean, just a few miles away. “Where are your parents?”

“Asleep.”

“And Shannon?”

“Asleep.”

Wow. Everyone is where they’re supposed to be.

Including . . . Melinda pulls me into the house, into her room, into her bed . . . including us.

“What do you want from me?” I whisper.

I realize that I might know some things, but about sex, but I have no idea in what order everything is supposed to happen. When do the clothes come off? What do I touch first?

When do I find out what happens when the kissing stops?

She says, “Shh.”

My back is against her mattress. The last time I was in here, she told me about Camus. And Bella’s stuff was on the bottom bunk.

Now, there’s no one on bottom but me. I say, “I’m just me.”

“You just taste delicious.” She works her lips down my cheek onto my neck onto my chest. She’s running her hands up up up my torso, lifting Noah’s shirt over my head.

“I don’t understand,” I say.

“There is nothing to understand. There is you and me and now.”

“There’s Noah.”

“There’s no Noah. Shh. You know he wouldn’t even mind, Chase. He’d let us play.”

But this doesn’t make me any more relieved, just more

confused. Would he mind? Probably not, but should he mind? Should I mind?

Noah is supposed to hate unproductive fun. And how is this at all close to productive? Melinda and I aren’t in a relationship. We never will be. We’re just having sex. I know we’re going to have sex. I can feel it, and if I knew what it tasted like, I would taste it, but I don’t know what happens afterward. I don’t know who I’m going to be. Am I going to turn into Noah now?

Noah would let us play like two kids in a sandbox, because he would know that nothing would come of this. He’d know that once it’s over, we’ll both come back to him, just like we’re supposed to, like coming home after school. They should have named me Stay.

But I don’t want to be good old reliable Chase tonight.

I don’t want to be the safe choice. Tonight, I want to be an *. I want to be Noah.

I try to kiss her harder, and she laughs. “What are you doing?”

“Going faster . . .”

She kisses me, slowly. I don’t want her mouth on mine.

I don’t want to hold her hand. It’s not like Bella. I want to close my eyes and have sex with her. I want this itch to be scratched, not tenderly kissed away.

I say, “Will it hurt?” she laughs. “Um, shouldn’t, not for you.” She pulls off my jeans, then her voice softens. “Chase, you’re shaking.”

“I know, I—”

“Hey. Hey. Do you want to do this?”

“Please stop talking.” I close my eyes. “Please, can we stop talking?”

She hesitates, then takes me in her mouth.

I can’t speak and my mind is purple. I am so sweaty and her sheets smell like sunscreen and I’m so sticky and so fuzzy and coated in Melinda. I wonder if she’ll protect me from the sun. I wonder if she’ll protect me.