That Boy

Da

“Aw…never mind, Jay,” Da

“Shut up, Da

After that, those boys will tell anyone who will listen about how I “slept” with both of them on prom night.

When I wake up the next morning, instead of being snuggled up to my date, I'm lying on Phillip's shoulder and wrapped up in his arms.

Really the same place I've slept for the last week.

I move over next to Da

Even he doesn't know about that.

I'm lying on the hammock in my back yard, drinking a diet Coke and flipping through a People magazine. I'm trying not to think about my parents. Trying to pretend it's just a lazy, spring day. Unfortunately, I keep expecting my Dad to come out on the patio, bottle of beer in hand, with Mom following him, wanting to hear all about Prom.

Life can really suck sometimes.

But I don't know what I can do about it.

I've been feeling really helpless. And a bit lost.

Like I was a little boat that was tied up on shore with all the other boats, but somehow my rope came undone and now I'm out in the middle of the ocean, no land in sight, just floating.

Completely untethered to the life I've always known.

I told Mr. Diamond that, and he pretty much called bullshit. Told me my parents did so many things for me, so that if, God forbid, something like this would happen, that I would be able to live in my house, in my neighborhood, keep the house, go to college, stay with my friends, my support system. He told me they were extremely well insured, and I would be okay financially. He told me that he was here for me, that all my friends are here for me, but that I have to officially grow up now. I have to handle things my parents did, like making sure the house gets cleaned, and the lawn gets mowed, and the bills get paid. He says as much as the Macs are trying to protect me, I'm 18, and I need to behave like it. He says my parents raised me to be strong, confident and independent, and I should do my best to make them proud of me.

And at the time, I was thinking, okay, maybe I'm not the little boat, maybe I am more like that game we used to play when we were little. Jenga, I think it was called. You stack up all these blocks, and you try to pull them out of the stack one by one. When the stack gets too weak, or you pull out the wrong one and it gets out of balance, the whole stack comes tumbling down, and you lose.

I sorta feel like that is what has been happening to me. Some cosmic force has been pulling out random blocks, trying to get me to cave, to fall down.

But here's the thing I have decided.

My parents wouldn't want me to fall down. So I'll be damned if I will.

But that doesn't mean I'm still not incredibly, earth shatteringly sad.

The gate rattles, as Da

“Hey,” he says, his hair blowing back in the breeze. He naughtily dives on the hammock, nearly flipping me over, and making me scream in the process.

I lean over to kiss him, but he backs off.

What the hell?

“Jay, we need to talk.”

Great. One date and he's breaking up with me. Not that we were going out, but you know what I mean. Someone, somewhere, is laughing hilariously, shoving around the blocks of my life.

“Look, I'm sorry about last night. I shouldn't have drank so much. I really wanted you to enjoy prom, and I hope you still had fun.”

“I did have fun, and I really appreciate your begging me to take you.” I joke, but then say seriously, “I don't think I would have gone otherwise, and I'm glad I didn't miss it. I have been sitting here thinking a lot about my parents, and I think you were right. They would have wanted me to go.” Then I laugh, “Although Dad always said you were trouble. I wonder what he thinks about me going with you.”

“Your dad loved me.”

“Yeah, I know.” I want to say, I love you too, but I'm afraid he'll take it wrong and think I'm like IN love with him. And yes, he is super hot and sweet, and I wished for a long time that I could be with him, but I'm not sure if I have much to give right now. And if I'm going to have a relationship with Da

I can tell by the look on his face that there's still something wrong.

What now?

“Something else is bothering you,” I say. “Spill.”

“Jeez, Jay. You just have me so, uh, overwhelmed,” he says, as he runs his hand through that gorgeous hair.

“What do you mean?”

“I just didn't expect to feel this way about you.”

I'm trying not to ask too many questions. I mean something is clearly bothering the boy, but I'm sorry, I've got to ask this one.

“What way is that?”

“Too much. Way too much. And way too fast. Which brings me to my problem.”

Uh, scratch that. I have plenty to give. I don't see a problem with this.

No problem at all!

But I think I know what the problem is. He feels bad because he passed out last night. I still haven't decided which one of us should be more embarrassed about that. Him for passing out, or me for getting passed out on. But I'll tell him that we can soon. Hell, we could go in my house right now and do it if we wanted to.

“Da

“Jay, this is hard for me. Just let me finish, okay?”

I nod with my mouth shut.

“Okay, so here it is. You know how I worked hard during spring practice and performed really well in the spring game, and the guy who was the starter last year did really shitty?”

“Yeah.”

What's this got to do with us?

“Well, I haven't said anything, but I'm pretty sure I'll be first on the depth chart this fall.”

It takes a second for that to sink into my brain.

“You mean like The Starting Quarterback at Nebraska? Da

“You think so?”

“Uh, yeah. Greatness is in you. Don't you know that?”

Da

“Maybe, but, well, here,” he says shyly.

And he is NEVER shy.

He fishes a folded up piece of paper out of his wallet and hands it to me, “Look at this.”

I unfold the paper and see it's a picture of me, in my flag bikini top, no less, jumping up to catch a pass with Phillip just behind me.

It's a really great picture of us.

Weird. I don't usually photograph so well.

“Where'd you get this?” I study the picture closely. “Hey! This is from that day in Lincoln, when you pissed me off enough to run down the field in my bikini top in front of half the football team. Right?”

“Yeah,” Da

“I was serious. Where'd you get this picture?”

“Oh, it seems one of the school paper's photographers found you a very interesting subject,” he says with one eyebrow raised at me, like he finds this very humorous. “He took a ton of pictures of you and gave me a few of the best. This is my favorite. Oh, and I was supposed to have told you that he wants to go out with you.” He shakes his head at me and teases, “You've grown up to be quite the little heartbreaker.”

I roll my eyes at him.

“Look at the picture, Jay.”

I do.

“It's a fun picture. I love the look on Phillip's face.”

“I mean look at you. You look gorgeous. Perfect.” He lays back on the hammock, pulling me down with him and says, “You are also looking at my goal. Perfection. Wa