Page 9 of Taking Care of You
“What house number?” he asks.
Sighing, I tell him, looking at the house I’ve lived in my entire life. Looking at it with fresh eyes, I try to see it how Ethan would.It’s a run-down house with a sinking porch with two of the porch steps missing. There’s no point in trying to fix anything because it’ll just get messed up again. I learned that years ago.
Turning to him, I force myself to meet his eyes. I hope I don’t see any pity there. I already feel bad enough that I live here.
But there’s no pity. He’s just…looking at me. “Umm…” I start, thrown by his reaction, or lack thereof. “Thank you. For the ride.”
He smiles at me. “No problem, creep. See you tomorrow, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say, climbing out of his car. I really hope he’ll speak to me tomorrow.
I watch him drive away, shaking my head at the fact that Ethan King just gave me a ride home.
Hopping onto my porch—avoiding the area that’s sagging—I slide my key into the lock but stop just short of opening the door when I hear someone call my name. I turn and see Crystal heading in my direction. She lives a few houses down from me, so it doesn’t take her long to reach my porch.
The neighborhood dealers leave her alone because she’s super smart and has a future, too. Just like me, she filled out a stack of scholarship applications. Also like me, she has a full academic scholarship to USC.
Even though I don’t want to, I wait for her to hop on my porch, and when she does, I open my door. I sigh in relief when I see my mom isn’t laid out in the middle of the floor with a bottle of gin in front of her. Small favors.
I drag Crystal back to my room anyway, just in case my mother gets the bright idea to come out of the room with no clothes on. It’s happened before.
After I shut us into the room, I lean against the door while Crystal sits on my bed. I’m not sure what I’m nervous about. Maybe I’m afraid to tell her where I was, in case Ethan pretendslike he never invited me to his house. Knowing her, she’ll curse him out in front of everyone, which will embarrass me more than Ethan ignoring me.
Crystal is my best friend, though. She’s been there for me since we were young and had my back when people were giving me shit for being gay. Hell, when I came out to her, she hugged me, told me she didn’t see me any differently and I’ll always be her best friend. Anything I tell her will stay between the two of us.
I pull in a deep breath and blow it out slowly. “I was with Ethan last night. He asked me to spend the night after we walked to his house.” Her mouth drops open and I realize how that sounds. “Oh, no. Not like that. Here, let me start from the beginning.”
Starting with me following him outside, I tell her about our conversation, about me offering to walk him home since he’d been drinking. Also about Ethan telling me he would drive me home the next morning, since I didn’t take him up on the offer to order me an Uber. I tell her that we watched a movie and talked for a bit. I leave out the part about waking up lying across his chest like a quilt.
Crystal is quiet for a bit, and I’m not sure what she’s thinking. Maybe that I’m an idiot, something that’s been floating through my head since we walked to Ethan’s last night. I know it’s stupid to expect him to really want to be my friend. Why would he? He already has a lot of them. Everyone likes Ethan. He’s not only handsome, but he’s also a nice person. Funny, kind, friendly. Someone everyone wants to be around.
Finally, she says, “I told you he wasn’t so bad. Sounds like you guys had a good time.”
I nod. We really did. Now that I’m out, not a lot of guys want to hang out with me like that. I’m sure they think if people saw them with me, they’d think they were gay too.
I’m not sure if Ethan will think that as well, but I guess we’ll see tomorrow. I plop on my bed beside Crystal and put my head on her shoulder. “You think he really wants to be my friend or he’s trying to…you know?” I hate thinking that way, but I’m still a bit cautious after the last incident.
Crystal puts her head against mine, shaking hers gently. “I don’t think he would do that. He doesn’t act like the rest of them. And he’s not…him. Just see what happens. We’re only here for eight more months. Then we can forget everyone and everything that happened here.”
True. Only eight more months.
Crystal leaves shortly after. She kept waving me away when I apologized for leaving her alone at the party, saying it was fine, though I know it’s not. Even though she said it’s no big deal, I promise to make it up to her as soon as I can.
After she leaves, I look around my house, seeing what a mess it is. My mother was a stay-at-home mom. Now, she’s just an alcoholic.
I start to clean up, picking up the trash strewn about the living room and the dishes that are on every surface. I sweep the floor, since my mother sold our vacuum to buy more booze. My dad won’t give her more than what she needs for groceries and bills.
I don’t know why my dad even sticks around. It’s not like he’s home enough for them to have a real marriage. He no longer has to stay in this marriage for me. I’m in my senior year of high school and my dad hasn’t paid me any mind since I was in eighth grade.
Washing the stack of dishes in the kitchen takes me at least an hour. How they’ve piled up this high when I’ve only been gone for two nights is beyond me. The night before the party, I stayed with Crystal so we could leave from her house. I washedthe dishes and cleaned the living room before I left. Not that you can tell now.
When I’m finished, I go to my room to grab clothes to take a shower. If Crystal hadn’t come over, that would have been the first thing I did. I slept in these clothes and I feel sticky, since I was warm all over when I woke up wrapped around Ethan. I shake that thought away and start the shower.
Just as I step into the bathroom, a low scratchy voice behind me says, “Get out. I need the shower. Take one when I’m done.”
I close my eyes tight for a moment before I turn to face my mother. She looks terrible, as usual. Her once-shiny hair looks dull and lank, brushed into a messy ponytail. Her skin looks ashen, a stark contrast to the healthy glow that used to make her brown skin look radiant. My mother used to be beautiful. Now she looks run-down, like she’s had a hard life.
She has, but not hard enough that she has to turn to drinking. In fact, drinking has made her life harder. She can’t work because she’ll end up getting fired for being drunk on the job. She can’t apply for assistance because my dad makes too much to qualify for food stamps or other government benefits. Basically, her problems about her life start and end with her drinking.
