Page 31 of Switch!
“We’ll see.” That was my father’s only response until later that night, when he arrived in my room to lecture me. “Men stick together. Do you understand? I love your mother, but she’s not like us. The sooner you learn that, the better. We have our ways, and women have theirs, so you better think twice before agreeing with her. Otherwise, people will start to see you as one of them.”
I never agreed with my mother after that. Not while he was around. Anytime I slipped up, he made sure to remind me.Don’t watch those kinds of movies. Stop crying. Don’t wear that color. Stop acting silly. Be a man.I never understood the reasons behind the rules. I only memorized what I shouldn’t do, which was most things.
“Are you listening to me?”
This brings me back to the present, my body reacting with practiced fear. “Yes, sir!” I bark. “I’m sorry, sir.”
My father nods. “Good.”
That’s it. At least he’s not going to make me play catch in the parking lot. The thought almost makes me laugh, but I don’t dare. Not until I’m alone in my truck and cruising down the highway again.
“No boy of mine is going to eat tofu!” I say, doing my best imitation of his brutish tone. “No sir! Waitress, bring me a gosh-dern cow. The entire thing! We’re going to sit here and watch him swallow it whole. That’ll learn him!”
What a jerk. The good news is that Major McCain works long hours. Caleb’s memories suggest that he’s easy to avoid, which I plan on doing. It’ll keep my bully-dodging skills sharp.
Eleven ↔ Chapter
The next five hours on the road are increasingly grueling. Apart from music, my only entertainment is dipping into Caleb’s memories, which isn’t as much fun as I expected. Dredging up his most embarrassing moments, for instance, doesn’t provide any satisfaction, reminding me instead of similar humiliations from my own past. His sex life is way more interesting. Caleb has slept with three different girls, two of them more than once. Physical intimacy is uncharted territory for me, except for the recent kiss with Ashley. Like any memory, Caleb’s experiences can’t be recalled in perfect detail, but what I am able to conjure up is pretty damn fascinating. I try to focus on the act itself instead of the unhappy relationships that surrounded these encounters. Caleb has offended his share of women. No surprise, considering his upbringing. I won’t be that kind of man, if given the chance. Or the choice. So far I still feel like me.
I nearly cry out in relief when we reach Boise. My butt is numb from the long drive and my eyes burn from staring at the road. My parents have already checked into the hotel when I get there, a text instructing me to meet them in the restaurant. This time I order a steak and fries, just to be a smart ass, not that either of them notice. Once I’ve cleared my plate, Major McCain hands me a plastic card.
“Room two eighteen,” he says. “Don’t stay up late. We’ll be on the road by six tomorrow to avoid rush hour.”
“No problem,” I respond.
I make sure to stifle any excitement until I’m around the corner, because I’m pretty sure this means I get my own room. As Travis, I only stayed in a motel twice during a road trip to visit relatives, and even lamer, I had to share a room with my mother. Not this time. I can scarcely believe my luck when the door closes behind me and I’m all by myself.
What to do with this newfound freedom? I start simple by arranging what I carried in from the truck. This includes my backpack, which is full of little keepsakes from my previous life. I’m not feeling nostalgic at the moment, so I set it aside. I’m more curious about the suitcase belonging to Caleb. I open it on the bed, disappointed by the boring contents: clothes, toiletries, and a phone charger. My enthusiasm rebounds when I realize I’m looking at my new wardrobe. I count five shirts and three pairs of shorts. The underwear makes me laugh. They aren’t so different from the generic cotton briefs I used to wear. Just a little skimpier and any color but white.
I bite my lower lip while surveying the clothes. Then I declare my plans aloud. “Fashion show!”
Hopefully my father isn’t in the next room with his ear pressed to the wall, making sure my every spoken word is filled with machismo. With that in mind, I turn on the clock radio next to the bed, happy when peppy pop music fills the room. Perfect!
I start by stripping myself nude. I’ve seen everything Caleb has to offer before, but only under stress. Now I’m able to take my time. I strut around the room, my motions exaggerated. “Hey, look at me! My name is Caleb and I’m a big dummy. I like picking on people smaller than me and smelling my own farts.” I very maturely follow this up by jumping up and down on the bed. Just a few times. Caleb weighs a lot more than I used to, and the bed is creaking in protest, so I pose in front of the bathroom mirror instead while trying out different facial expressions. Caleb is handsome when he smiles. Too bad he was always in a dick mood. I won’t let his potential go to waste. I flex in front of the mirror, bodybuilder style, and feel like I won the lottery. I can’t believe this body is mine. Impressive muscles at last! And without all the effort!
Memories flash in my mind of hours spent in the gym or out on various sports fields. Ugh. Will I have to keep doing that? Probably. For now I return to the suitcase and try on different combinations. I choose which outfit I would wear on a date—a black skin-tight shirt and gray shorts—and decide to stroll around the hotel with this on, just in case a horde of horny girls decide to throw themselves at me. I check the mirror before I leave the room, which is good, because I’m still wearing a pair of Caleb’s underwear on my head. I’ll never tire of making him do stupid things.
I talk to everyone I pass in the halls. It’s easier to be outgoing when you’re not yourself. I test different greetings on each person, ranging from, “Hello sir, how are you today?” to “’Sup, bro? How’s life?” I do this partly for my own amusement, but also to find my new style: a mix of who I am inside and my new outer appearance. The idea of starting a new school year isn’t as intimidating. I’ll be a super-ripped bookworm, protecting my geeky brethren from the local bullies. Hell, maybe I’ll even be popular. I’m not sure how much I’d enjoy that, considering how that clique behaved at my previous school. Ashley was the one exception. She’s on my mind when I return to my room and do some pushups out of sheer curiosity. I could never manage more than a handful before. Now they are easier. I’m still thinking of Ashley when I’ve worn out this amusement, so I grab a box of tissues and indulge in one of my favorite activities. That’s an experience. Familiar and yet different.
Once the endorphins wear off, I feel a sort of melancholy settle over me. I’m in a strange city, and even though I’m with my parents, I don’t truly know who they are. I have access to a bunch of memories involving them, but that’s not quite the same. I’m eager to reach Tacoma to begin my new life, and yet, I also haven’t let go of the past. Not completely.
Before I can second-guess myself, I grab Caleb’s phone and punch in the number for home. My heart aches when I hear my mother’s voice on the other end.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” I say. That’s all. It’s silly, but I expect her to recognize who I am, like she normally would. She doesn’t, of course.
“Who’s this?” she asks.
“Oh.” I should have come up with a story before calling. “I go to school with your son, Travis. Is he there?”
“Yeah, just a sec.”
I hear the phone rustle, and a split second later, she’s on the line again and sounding confused. I can guess why. Nobody ever calls and asks to talk to me.
“Are you one of his friends?”
“We were in Calculus class together,” I say. “So we’re more like study buddies.”
