Page 7 of The Summer of ’98

“Door open,” Dad added.

“Yep, door open. No sex.”

“Mom,” I groaned.

“Eleanor,” Dad spoke with amusement, “the boy has been wrapped around this girl’s finger for a month. The no-sex ship has sailed.”

I buried my head in my hands. The lingering silence prompted me to peer up and I found Mom glaring at Dad. “Are you telling me that our son needs sex in order to remain interested in a girl?”

Dad cleared his throat and shook his head. “No. ’Course not.”

“Regardless of whether you’re sexually active,” my mom said, “these are the rules that her mother required when I spoke to her on the phone. I have to respect rules when it comes to someone else’s child.”

“I get it, Mom,” I said.

“You do use protection, right?” she asked.

Even though talking sex with Mom and Dad was high on my list of things I aim to avoid, the discomfort was only mild. We’d always kept an open line of communication, which is how they knew that I had been sexually active for a couple of years now.

“Most of the time.”

Dad leaned forward with a stern expression. “The answer is all of the bloody time.”

“Yes, all right, all right, all of the bloody time.”

He shook his head and turned a light shade of red. “Boy, I swear. Don’t be acting stupid.”

“I get it, Dad, chill out.”

Upstairs, I went to brush my teeth and found Noah coming out of the bathroom in a towel. He looked more awake than he had before. No less pissed off, though.

“You seeing Cass tonight?” I asked.

Cass was a mutual friend that we’d known since middle school. She and Noah were in the same grade, he’d introduced her to me, and we’d gotten along well for the simple fact that she had no issue filling in the quiet that I provided. Noah and I ran in different circles and the only time that he socialized with my friends, was if I was there too. However, Cass could bounce from group to group and show up wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted. That was Cass. She got along with almost everyone. Although, Noah’s friendship with her was a little different than mine.

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “Why?”

“Could you introduce her to Ellie? They’ll probably get along.”

“So Cass can ditch me for the new girl as well? Cool as. Does she wanna steal anyone else from me too?”

“Shut up,” I said. If he gave a real damn about Cass, I might have apologized for the suggestion. But she was nothing more than someone he slept with and tossed aside on a regular basis. “You wanna come for a drive to the airport?”

He flinched with surprise. “No,” he said and left it at that, stalking down the hall to his bedroom, where he slammed the door. His attitude was getting old.

My fist pounded on his door until he opened it and stared at me.

“I like this girl,” I said, keeping calm so that I didn’t set off his short fuse. Noah was hard to understand at the best of times. Mom was right: we were different. He was noncommittal, I wasn’t. He preferred academics, I didn’t. He didn’t know how to communicate his shit, I did. Most of the time. “Can you just not be a dick about it? She’s nice. You’ll like her, honest. Just chill out, man, okay? We’ll still have time to hang out.”

“Whatever, man. I need to get dressed. I’ll see you later, when you get back.”

It’s hard to say when things became distant between Noah and me. Beginning of high school perhaps. Our interests shifted; our friend groups changed. There are only sixteen months between us—we were best friends as kids. We did everything together and then we stepped out of our home, out of our comfort zones, and the way that we handled the shift was different. We stopped navigating life together and we did it on our own. I suppose that’s when we lost who we were as a brotherhood.

Denver International Airport was a rush of tourists, traveling locals, and tired children. It was never quiet during summer peak. The white, pitched ceilings reminded me of circus tents. When Noah and I traveled with Mom and Dad for football coaching as children, I used to imagine that was what it was: a circus. The sheer size of the airport compared to my three-foot self was enough to leave me in awe. But there was a novelty about the shape of the ceiling—it was mesmerizing, the sort of fascination that only a child can feel. It’s nostalgic to think back on an emotion that no longer exists apart from the ghost of a feeling that’s tucked away for safekeeping.

My heart was beating hard as I read the board of flights. Flight 998 from Dallas to Denver had landed. She was here. It sent a chill right through me to know that she’d be walking through those electric sliding doors any minute now. The last month had felt like forever. But I couldn’t complain; it was a blessing that she could come at all. I would have waited, though. Waited until I was in Waco at college, close to her again.

It happened then; she wandered out with her shoulder-length blond hair in a disheveled bun, a pair of shorts, and a Red Hot Chili Peppers T-shirt on. I grinned. She had insisted that I listen to them a few weeks ago, so passionate about her love of music. I was a fan. She had great taste. She looked around but couldn’t see me. So I took the time to watch her, to admire her teeth worrying on her bottom lip, her gaze moving from left to right as she walked closer to the exit, a small bounce in her step that made my heart thump. She had this adorable light sprinkle of freckles across her button nose, and round cheeks. Her green eyes flicked up like a feline at the outer edge and made her look insanely sexy. Her beauty was impossible not to notice, but who she was, that was the real prize.

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